It is later than you think

Douglas Adams, in his Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, said that "time is an illusion- lunchtime doubly so."
Yesterday saw the funeral of my aunt Joan. I didn't attend; instead I will talk about her for a while. She was my fathers older sister, and lived for 88 years in the house where she was born and grew up. She was a spinster with her own hairdressing business, fiercely independent, right wing, and very difficult to get on with. Joan fell out so easily with everyone in the family and eventually alienated herself to the extent that only near neighbours would visit to make sure that she was still alive.
Joan was found unconscious on the tiled floor of her unheated home in the depths of winter and was taken to hospital where she came round and refused food, water or treatment of any kind, and died more or less as she had lived-alone.
Her rented house had not been properly maintained, the windows and doors rotting and draughty, the roof leaking and carpets and furniture mildewed and mouldering. Cupboards were stuffed with clothes and shoes that had once belonged to her parents, and nothing seemed to have been thrown away in years. My long suffering Sister who had visited her regularly and suffered abuse for her efforts, assisted neighbours in clearing the house, knowing that her small estate had been willed to those neighbours, and organised the funeral. I toyed with the idea of attending but as i never visited when she was alive, I could see no point in making the long journey to say goodbye to her corpse. I can do that from here. I do not feel guilty. We choose our friends but family is thrust upon us. My remaining Aunt on my father's side is also very ill and she is as mad as a bag of cats. I will not be attending her funeral either.
My dear friend Liz is 84 years old and yesterday had to be evacuated from her house because of a serious gas leak. She was transferred The stress and lack of opportunity to smoke brought on a funny turn and so they have transferred her to hospital, oddly to the last ward that I was in. I suspect that Liz will not be going home again. It would appear that the house needs a lot of work to make it safe and when that can be done I have no idea. Her relatives are either very old or far away or detached from her and I suspect that many are just waiting to inherit their share. Liz is a lovely human being and sadly losing her memory very quickly. I know that I will miss her when she goes and hers will be a funeral that I will certainly attend, should I be in a position to do so. However one can never be certain. Joan I will not miss, as we had no relationship to speak of; the sad thing of course is that she had no real relationships at all in her life and that there is no-one left to miss her.