Death and Coffee

Two friends and I often have coffee on Saturday mornings. Outrageous fortunes have hit each one of us, losses, illnesses, the whole gamut. Well, of course, that's the way life goes.

I'm in my early seventies and my friends are in their eighties, which makes me the kid of the group. We talk about death sometimes, and it seems to me our attitudes are less fearful than when we were younger. We've been fortunate to make it this far, and we know the Grim Reaper waits patiently (or not) around the corner. Which is surprisingly okay, the cycle of life and all that. 

Death be not proud, right? Apologies to John Donne. If there is an afterlife, he's one of the people I'd like to meet.

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