And Then There Were Three

I was stunned and saddened – in that order – to learn of the untimely passing of Yolanda King at the age of 51.

With my own 50th birthday approaching very rapidly, I am more aware than ever of my own mortality. Names in the obituaries are no longer anonymous old people or even parents of friends (many people I know have lost both parents by now); they are my contemporaries. To learn that someone your own age suddenly collapsed and died is . . . well, frightening. I picture her parents in Heaven, looking up and exclaiming, "What are you doing here so soon?"

My condolences to the King family, who have suffered more than their fair share of sudden and tragic deaths. And I do hope that the surviving three siblings, whose two vs. two squabbles re the management of the King Center for Nonviolent Social Change made headlines following the death of their mother, Coretta, last year, can finally come to an agreement, if they haven't already.