A co-worker died over the weekend.

Photo by Karsten Würth (➡️ @karsten.wuerth) on Unsplash

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?



Chris L. Robinson

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