The topic of death is something that I rarely think about. Life can be so full and rewarding but like all things there is a start and a end. So when I read the article in the Los Angeles Times titled “Funerary urns as modern art” I had to take a step back and contemplate my mortality.

What went through my head was my father. He died fairly young at the age of 63. Strong as an Ox and rarely sick he was my mother's care giver to the end of his life. When my mom had her aneurysm in her late forties everyone in the family was prepared for the worst. We did not think about funerals we thought about losing our mother. You see my father and mother were true soul mates. They did everything together!

The result of modern medicine mom miraculously survived 5 emergency surgeries and several heart attacks through out the years. She is now lived over 20 years longer then the doctors predicted. However my father was not so lucky.

When mom had her initial event and collapsed at the thanksgiving dinner party at my uncles, my father passed out. He could not bare the loss of mom. They both took a ride in the ambulance to the hospital. They thought he had a heart attack.