[…] In reality, I wasn’t mourning the writers. After all, their words are with us for eternity. Instead, what I was grieving the passage of time was realizing how much of my own life is now in the past. These deaths dredge up the detritus of memories, which suddenly measure the distance of life lived.
The mortality of these towering figures, who created whole worlds through which we could discover our reality, is a reminder of loves lost, dreams unfulfilled, destinations that one time defined the future.Om Malik