The moment I learned my grandma died was the moment I was no longer a kid. I was truly heart-broken. And maybe I've never recovered.

Ok, I don't know that adulthood has to be a long slow march to death, but I don't think we can be grown up unless death is in view. But I still try not to think about it on some days, still try denial. And I'm conscious lately how powerful a temptation denial is. And how tempting it can be to need others to agree with the narrative of meaning within which I try to live. It isn't hard to find yourself engaged in what Becker called an immortality project wherein one's achievement of something (sanity, a name for one's self, peace of mind, happy kids, etc.) becomes more important than genuine relationship. And I mourn that.

So, is "genuine relationship" my immortality project by which I'm judging these other things? Could be.