Ars wipe

We all knew what was coming next. One of us would disappear for a while and the rest would forget the missing member almost entirely. All he would receive would be announcements. His in box would overflow with invitations to participate in the success of others.
They might find him inside his sealed up Lexus in the garage, or maybe not.
They might wonder from time to time, or not.
It was regarded as declasé to inquire.
One single, soft slip and all his work would be disregarded. The pundits might recall Ars longa, vita brevis, but who had time to practice punditry?
Years later, all would appear in the database, but rarely on a search engine, and Mom would say, “Don’t cross your eyes. They may stay that way.”
We could always count on Mom’s perception, if not her affection.