POV

When you lose someone you love, you start to look for new ways to understand the world. Wait, let me get my glasses off. My God. One moment they're there, and they're tangible, and then the next moment they've passed. Where does your grandmother exist, now that she's dead? We're turning grandma's house into an archeological dig. (laughs) When you're on an archeological dig, you start to imagine how these people would have lived. That whiff of perfume, that splash of red lipstick on the collar, I can envision the dress alive. We interviewed her every year, for ten years. Do you ever wish you were young? No. Grandma, are you vain? Oh yes, I am. Do you miss sex? Oh no, not at my age. A person, and especially a person that you care about, has a presence that goes far beyond their material body. Are you scared of dying? Oh no. Oh no, never, I'm not scared of dying at all. At 86 years of age, I think I'm very fortunate I've lived so long. The years have gone by and it's taken its toll. Where does it put me? Puts me into this seat. But I'm alive.