Next year I will be the same age as my mother when she died. I don’t attach any great significance to that other than it occurred to me in response to someone else’s similar thought. It hadn’t occurred to me because I don’t often think of my Mom. As a rule, I don’t generally think about dead people at all. It’s not that I don’t miss her or that I didn’t love her, but she is gone; like Monty Python’s dead parrot. She is deceased.