The Long Goodbye

Dear All,

It pains me to talk to you of that which cannot be named, the Voldemort of earth's future:  Despair is so paralyzing.  I intended, here, at this small Museum of Anachronisms, (where there is always Plenty of on the Street FREE Parking!) to list, to show, to memorialize all the things that I love that are going or gone.  But, it was too sad.  I could not write to you only the story of loss.  So, instead, I have told you of the little slivers remaining, and I have tried to keep spirits up in the face of absolute annihilation.  Isn't that what we have all always done, really?

Because, I know, dear ones, that you cannot just blink yourselves out- you cannot will yourself to stop breathing.  Life, in its terrible sublime horror, just keeps on.  Growing up worse, and more mangled and deformed and pitiful and without hope each passing minute.  So, we agree.  We will go on.  For now.

That settled, you must again, as ever, make the difficult choice of what you will do with this last minute.  How will you make the long goodbye, the slow farewell?