Last August, writer and theater critic Terry Teachout wrote a beautiful blog post about life, loss, and literature.  It is a lovely, meandering exploration of remembrance that connects Willa Cather (one of my favorite authors) and Thornton Wilder’s play Our Town, via the New Hampshire cemetery where Cather is buried.   I especially appreciated Teachout’s closing sentence: 

For those of us still on earth, straining to make something of ourselves, it seems there is no weaning away from the people we love and lose: they are always there, dissolved into the completeness of eternity, waiting patiently–and, I suspect, indifferently–for the little resurrection that is memory.

Lately I have thought a lot about how to honor the memory of people and places we’ve lost (from family members, to interesting strangers, to arts organizations).  And I have taken to reading Obit Magazine, which isn’t as macabre as most folks would suspect.  It may be the historian in me, or my interest in how we remember and if we remember, but either way I am fascinated by how cultures celebrate life and death.  From Obit’s website: 

Death gives life its immediacy. Because we know it will end, we savor and value life all the more. Whether it’s the loss of a person, a place, an object or an idea, life’s constant change presents an opportunity for examination, discussion and even celebration.  By examining the transformations we face, we can understand how the past influences our time and our future.

And so, I write tonight in memory of two first cousins who’ve passed away in the past eight months.  Josh Aiken was 34, and was so kind, gentle, and brave.  Rob Kimpel was 44, and had an infectious laugh and generous spirit; I cannot imagine how much his wife and children must miss him. 

Peace to you both…our families will never be the same…and I will always remember you.