"Sarah's gone." My husband addressed the back of my head as I worked at the computer. He was just back from the library with a few videos.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" I asked without turning around.

"Dead." He was on his way up the stairs. "She died on Thanksgiving."

Sarah was a neighbor I would see regularly because I walk every day and she walked her dog every day. She was always good company and good conversation. Working at the public library in a small town, she was always good for some gossip. Seeing each other was always a pleasure, however brief. I knew her the way people know their neighbors--intimately and not at all.

A slender woman who had smoked, her habit left her with a grievous cough that grew like a black cloud that eventually engulfed her. After a week in hospice care, she went home to her brother for Thanksgiving and died there.

It's strange, humbling, and eerie to come home from a short vacation to find out someone you expect to see every couple of days is dead and gone. All the cliches bubble to the surface--life is short, enjoy each day, live without regrets, you never know...

Sarah came back to mind this week when the friend of a friend now dead for six years contacted me via email in the hopes of finding our mutual friend, whom he had been seeking for the past two decades.

Via email, each of us, though strangers, shared happy reflections of our friend. How he made us laugh! Remembering made us laugh all over again. Even now. I cried like a baby after I heard from this man; even now I have an email message from him waiting to be opened and addressed. I can't bring myself to it just yet.

Life is short, enjoy each day, you never know.... What are cliches but dead words--turns of phrase the meanings of which are lost on us because we use them too much?

Ironically, death invigorates language. Death can challenge our imagination to reorder priorities, to put love and joy ahead of everything else. The folks who brought the shredder to Times Square that anybody who chose to bury old griefs and petty grievances and consuming disappointments could do so created the perfect confetti for the New Year. Happy New Year to you. May you know every blessing in 2008. Live well.

(I've been dabbling with some short stories that deal with this theme. They are here.)