Death

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The Madman and me The Madman and me
Ozzy and I crossed paths on the worst day of my life. Boy, am I grateful.
Found and lost Found and lost
I thought I was one of the lucky 9/11 relatives: I had the remains of my husband. But then the medical examiner informed me I was grieving over only 40 percent of Eddie's body.
New last words for my mother New last words for my mother
I meant what I said, but I wish I hadn't said it.
"My son was killed because of the occupation" "My son was killed because of the occupation"
Israel's Women in Black say the blood of their children is on Sharon's hands.
Wrath of a terror widow Wrath of a terror widow
Yes, we are angry, often justifiably, but we are not ungrateful opportunists making a buck on the death of loved ones. That person is cartoonist Ted Rall.
Loving a ghost Loving a ghost
I believed that if I could get through the trifecta of holidays after Sept. 11 without Eddie, I could get to the finish line of my grief. But I'd forgotten about Valentine's Day.
Seaweed soup Seaweed soup
A rich Korean brew filled with slimy green ribbons soothes a mother after the birth of one son and the death of another.
What lies beneath What lies beneath
It's been four months and New York looks normal, but it's not. Not for New Yorkers.
It takes one to know one It takes one to know one
A mother who has lost a child is an ally in the hellish war against all-consuming grief.
Playing dead Playing dead
I enjoyed years and years of violence and killing, but I was totally unprepared for death.
Kurt Vonnegut: "My God, Vesuvius has erupted again!" Kurt Vonnegut: "My God, Vesuvius has erupted again!"
At 79, the author of "Slaughterhouse Five" reflects on Sept. 11, death, heaven and the meaning of life.
On dying young On dying young
In emergencies, after disasters, youth is a powerful fantasy.
Gentle epitaphs for lives interrupted Gentle epitaphs for lives interrupted
The "Portraits of Grief" in the New York Times give us a chance to be loved ones to complete, and wrongfully dead, strangers.
The one war we can never win The one war we can never win
We aren't just angry at terrorists; we are furious that we are not immune to death.
The numbers The numbers
We are wise enough to believe in our unstoppable horniness.
wil self "How the Dead Live"
Will Self reads from his third novel, which tracks Lily Bloom, a cantankerous American divorcée with breast cancer, from this world to the afterlife.
The water in Cairo in summer The water in Cairo in summer
Sometimes the snakes, the bong hits and cancer are all visible through the lens of one place in one season.
To have sex or not? To have sex or not?
One night, shortly after Gary fell asleep, love squeezed Bill's insides so hard that his hands sprang forward like claws. Last of three parts.
Distraction Distraction
Bill couldn't stop thinking about Gary, but he didn't want to have sex with him. Second of three parts.
Best buddies Best buddies
When Bill kissed Gary it felt like he was kissing a steak. First of three parts.
A matter of life in death A matter of life in death
It begins with carnage and never really ends.
"Purified by Fire" by Stephen Prothero
Denounced as "heathen," then touted as tasteful, cremation in America has lately taken a turn for the tacky.
Killing McVeigh Killing McVeigh
Vengeance, not justice, will be televised with the execution of the convicted Oklahoma City bomber.
Isle of Skye Isle of Skye
How do you say goodbye to a child you didn't know you would lose?
Get your laws off my coffin! Get your laws off my coffin!
The funeral industry dukes it out with independent casket dealers as Americans redefine the way they deal with death.
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