Age colors one’s own
reaction. Rex was older; I expected him to leave before me; but Baldy was our “little”
brother—and in every way, I think, healthier and more energetic than I am. So a
kid brother passes before his creaking elder.
I note this here in
passing, almost. The end days are not really in any sense a public matter. Others
of our age, of course, will know what I am saying and can rest in the knowledge
that the strange feelings of lifting a hand in farewell to someone you’ve lived
with all your life is odd, to say the least. And the desire to see him or her
again, soon (Auf Wiedersehen, as the Germans put it) is a quite perceptible feeling.