A co-worker died over the weekend.

We weren’t particularly close, though he was a nice enough guy. As I get older, more and more people seem to die around me, many of them in my age group. And I find myself taking these deaths more and more personally, even those that are distant relatives or neighbors or friends of friends.

Every one seems a sign, a portent, a warning.

Every one seems a reminder to enjoy my own life.

In other words, every life lost is bent and twisted to be about me.

And ain’t that always the way?

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Top Writer in Parenting, and Food. I write about masculinity, fatherhood, family, and relationships.

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Chris L. Robinson

Chris L. Robinson

Top Writer in Parenting, and Food. I write about masculinity, fatherhood, family, and relationships.

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