Surrounded by the dead

November are the ember days in the Church. While I pray for the souls in Purgatory every day, All Souls Day is November 2, and we dedicate this month for the dead. The readings before Advent starts are geared toward the end of days... and reminder that one's own end may be much sooner than that.

Not everybody who has been super-important in my life is dead or died young (hi ma!), but many have. My dad, Aunt Pat, Stu — all died "before their time". But we don't get to choose our time. It was their time, though we didn't like it. 

My grandparents were also important, and while they lived to be older than Stu, Grandma Cook and Grandpa Campbell had health issues that made them die before their 80s, the usual age of death nowadays.

I have carried my memories for decades for many of these people. No, I will not be commenting on the deeply evil and unwise concepts of trying to extend the existence of the dead through AI. No, do not do it. It's not the people. Let the memories be, and it's also okay to let memories fade as time goes on... in terms of it will not be as sharp, it will not be as immediate. That's fine.

Don't try to reanimate as Frankenstein's monster. It's not that the monster itself is going to pummel you so much that one looks into an abyss. It's nothingness, and it's a kind of despair and withdrawal from life. 

It reminds me of the spiritualism craze post-WWI, when so many young men of Britain were killed... and so many tried to grasp at the ghosts. It's not a good idea.