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There are no survivors
doves
Earlier this week, we got word that another member of the generation ahead of me had, in the words of Christian parlance, passed to her eternal rest. In the way of things these days, I was able to subscribe to obituary updates from the funeral home and, as I waited for the e-mail that would tell me where and when my Aunt Jean’s funeral would be held, I found myself recalling all the times that I and my friend, Michael, whose office used to be next door to mine, read aloud obituaries to each other.
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