My last few conversations with S in the cemetery were largely about Uncle J,, who has been terribly depressed lately. Word had it that he'd quit his other job and was doing extra hours at the cemetery. I delivered an envelope to Uncle J a couple of weeks ago; in it was material from the Mayo Clinic about depression. I wrote a note to him from Lilith and me and added that "S cares about you." Today, S--who was "terminated" a week ago-- texted me to say that J had been fired.
Lilith and I have been interacting with S and J for ten years now, through COVID (they denied it) and Trump (they loved him) and Biden (he was demented) and Harris (she was dumb). We hardly agreed on anything, except that we loved Lilith and were oddly fond of one another. More recently, the cemetery politics had gotten very nasty, and I talked to them about that, as about mortality and friendship. You can't help but feel deeply in such a place.
I worry about them, S and J. I grieve for that community (another employee had quit recently under the stress of surveillance and problems with the boss). And, since writers are always problematic in this way, I feel the probable loss of my 10 year project, Lilith Walks. In our own ways, Lilith and I will have been "terminated" by the vulture capitalists and their henchmen. I will not lose my livelihood, but my stories, my threads, my documentation, part of my vocation have been taken from me.
When I get back to O`ahu, I'll seek out Lilith's and my remaining friends, and see what they make of all the unmaking going on around them. Cut trees, cut people, cut cords.
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