Boomer grief- what's the fuss?

            " Now ages 34 to 52, baby boomers are meeting grief head-on

    as they experience deaths....in increasing numbers , " the newspaper

    article said . ( Kay Harvey, Knight Ridder Newspapers )

            I told a close friend of mine whose mother just passed

    away ( DIED! ) that hardly a week passes by lately without having

    to say adios to some person -friend, relative, or " enemy "- who

    was a big part of our life. Indeed we had just read the obituary

    of our Washington Park friend, " Tommy " ( an incurable drunk and

    drug addict - but still a likable guy ) .

           Neither Bill, my friend, nor I have any use for the grief

    counseling industry. The newspaper article on baby boomer grief

    says: " They need somebody who knows what's going on ".

         What a laugh ! Don't wait too long for somebody who

    knows what's going on !

            Bill and I concluded that the vast majority go through

    life unthinking - robotlike and without a clue. They gravitate

    to organized religion because it gives their stupid lives the

    illusion of purpose and significance. And an imbecilic spark of

    hope for an afterlife!

            I cannot say that I am without fear and anxiety -with

    all these people -a part of my life - now dying like flies

    around me. I recall a  ancient Latin tomb inscription: " As I

    am, so YOU will be ! "

           Not for nothing I have always been a horror story fan.

    " Sometimes They Come Back ?  " 

          Anxiety shows up in an occasional nightmare. Just the

    other night I had a horrible nightmare : My 76 year old father

    -who has leukemia- was being BURIED ALIVE with the connivance

    of an innovative funeral director.

         Just last week my mother received the last rights of the

    Catholic Church at Roger Williams hospital. I walked out of

    her room when the " vulture " chaplain returned to " comfort "

    her. Nothing personal;I just preferred the bright September

    sunshine and the fresh air.

            I recall the last part of James T. Farrell story

    where a man who lost his faith long before -and was now

    dying himself - concludes that death was just " a messy end

    to a mess ".

          Perhaps he needed a grief counselor !