Summer Mourning

1969: the Summer of Love. 2009: the Summer of Loss.

This has really been a crappy summer for people. As a community, an American civilization specifically, we've lost a number of genuine icons - people who defined a generation, a genre, or a Government. This summer has seen the deaths of Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Ed McMahon, John Hughes, Les Paul, Walter Cronkite, and now today, Ted Kennedy. And there are others, and my apologies to them - the list is getting too long to keep track in my tiny little brain. These names are not small-time celebrities who had their 15 minutes of fame. They were genuine contributors to society in some substantial way, sharing their incredible gifts with us. The world genuinely feels loss with each departure, and we're a poorer place for the loss.

For me, those celebrity passings have been a sort of symbol of what has gone on at a much more personal level. This summer has also seen the death of two great friends of my family - Betty Tufts and Derl Weikel. Both were genuinely good people, beloved by those who had the privilege to know them, and stricken with cancer that stole them from us much too soon. I have been enriched by their presence in my life, and I am deeply and irrevocably saddened by their deaths.

I am grateful to still have my parents, my sister, my husband, and his mother and siblings still with us (and of course my children, but I prefer to think of them as too young to mention in this context). I admit to guilt for feeling relief that these losses, profound as they've been, have been someone else's mother, brother, or spouse. I also recognize, more vividly than ever, that this is the cycle of life; death is inescapable, inevitable, and in a way, therefore no more noteworthy than any other event.

But it still hurts.