Doing the Math

overhead the string of geese

“Dad’s passed,” my nephew leaves a message on my answering machine. I hate that term for death. Passed.

Seven years later, I am approaching the same age as my brother when he died. Sounds like one of those word puzzles or a riddle. Sally is seven years younger than her brother. On her next birthday, she is one year older than him. How can that be?

Answer: She outlived him.

open wounds
no one passes through


© Marianne Paul 2011