One of my favorite writers, as well as my favorite Jewish-American writers, is Marge Piercy, who has lived an enviable life, on her own terms, as a poet, author and liberal activist. She lives in Cape Cod with her husband and a whole lot of cats. This excerpt is from her memoir, and feels particularly poignant these days as I’ve been blessed to have the time to do a lot of writing:
Cats continue to teach me a lot of what is important in my life, and also, how short it is, how we need to express our love to those for whom we feel it, daily, nightly, in every way we can. With everyone we love, we have only a limited time, so we must learn to celebrate it body and soul. They have taught me how precious every moment we can enjoy can be with whatever we love, because it all passes and so do we.
Writing is a futile attempt to preserve what disappears moment by moment. All that remains of my mother is what I remember and what I have written for and about her. Eventually that is all that will remain of Ira and me. Writing sometimes feels frivolous and sometimes sacred, but memory is one of my strongest muses. I serve her with my words. So long as people read, those we loved survive however evanescently. As do we writers, saying with our life’s work, Remember. Remember us. Remember me.
— Sleeping With Cats: A Memoir, Marge Piercy
the concluding paragraph