Death, death, death, it’s all around. Today it is Alan Rickman, also 69, also cancer. I think of him as Snape, of course, although I mentioned his death to my wife and she said “Oh, he was the bad husband from ‘Love, Actually,” right?”
I’m noticing on facebook that many people remember him from different roles, which is nice. He was a good actor.
Yesterday it was a friend of a friend, she seemed to think I might have known him too, we worked at the same place at the same time, but there were a lot of people in that office and I didn’t know very many of them well. I couldn’t place him. Yet, his death was sadder because he was only 44.
After David Bowie died, a different friend posted a clip of a blues singer, Otis Clay, who had the terrible misfortune to die on the same day as David Bowie. I’d never heard of him before, but it was a cool video, and sad that I only came to know him upon his death.
I guess it’s fortunate for Miguel Cervantes and John Adams that they died before the advent of social media and thus, presumably, were individually mourned.
My point is, I guess, as far as I have a point, is that this year is off to a hell of a bad start with people dying almost every day.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, though, I have a new nephew (grandnephew, I guess – he is my nephew’s son), Michael Eric Stalter, and life carries on.