Is it any wonder that we die; we are born after all? We are born unexpectedly to ourselves, and occasionally to a person who has had irregular periods their whole life and a wicked stomach ache for the last 9 months. Fortunately, it’s hard to remember what exactly happens those first few years of life, and if you die in America and you're white and old then you probably won’t remember the last few years either for the dementia and drugs. First grandad will die and then poppa; after that, it’s your turn. Being alive is like being an alcoholic, as long as you’re alive death like drink waits as a crouching tiger or hidden dragon, taunting and tempting, offering reprieve if not for a moment then eternity. In heaven the Christian is made perfect but I will be here on earth where I’ve always been; consumed rather than consumer now my turn about this place a piece of a puzzle back in the box never fully completed but beautiful all the same.