Thinking of the dead is easy. The thoughts come to me unwanted, these little coils of memory. They’re pervasive, the dead. Sometimes they fill up your head and you can’t shake them. Sometimes your dead are all you can think about.
The dead have a power the living lack. With the living, there’s some hope that you’ll get the last word, but with your dead, that’s it, you’ve got no hope of that. You can revisit that last conversation, that last exchange of glances and you can’t fix any of it, you can’t go for round 2 and win.
So in some way, the dead are the winners even though they’ve lost life. The dead are immortal. And you’re the loser, because you keep thinking about them when they’ve long since stopped thinking at all.
nancyornot 