I think of it now because the story features a somewhat morbid local oddity – the “death watch.” Avaricious relatives impatiently await the demise of their patriarch, making every effort to be ingratiating and appear caring in the meantime. My recent death watch was not driven by greed, nor was it as protracted as in the movie. Nevertheless, I have been waiting this week for a relative to die.

We were not close enough to warrant a rushed trip east to see him before he was gone. So I waited, hour by hour, for news of his passing. As is often the case, he hung on far longer than the doctors expected. It has been a sad week.

And I feel guilty, too. Guilty that I wished for him to die on a schedule convenient for me. How selfish of me to feel the seeds of resentment at the thought of missing out on things for the sake of his funeral! My life will go on – I have many more opportunities. He is dead. The least I can do is be gracious in his final moments.

But I am human, and I am relieved that I will not miss my Thanksgiving. (Me, me, me.) The next few days will be for him. Even more so, they will be for his wife, who I am close to. And I am thankful to him for allowing me to be a comfort to her and still be home for turkey.