It’s not surprising, as my next big project is my death book, that I am one acquainted with the night — and thus spend more time thinking on these things than your average bear. This is particularly true now that I have promised myself to have this book ready to go by the end of the year, even with school starting back. (I’m going to be standing on my head — but I think I can, I think I can. . .)

Still, apart from that even, life has been just rough in its reminders of how frail we really are in these recent days and weeks and months for all of us — and in my world too.

Though we had a long time to brace ourselves, I still haven’t fully gotten my head around our precious friend Lindsey being gone — as I had a card for her in my hand at Trader Joe’s the other day before my head caught up with me. It’s still just surreal and it still hurts like hell.

Last week also, a friend I grew up with passed away from a cancer she was diagnosed with only weeks before, just stunning everyone, a heartbreaking situation all around.

And, of course, we are all now walking through this nightmare that seems to be only the beginning of a new COVID surge. Every day the news feels worse and unfortunately we are already seeing so many illnesses and losses, especially here in the Deep South.

In my hometown, a local ER physician posted this a few days ago:

Times are scary and we are in trouble, y’all.

So what to do?

Well, first, of course, be as cautious as we can. As the doctor said, eat well, rest well, get vaccinated if you haven’t, practice social distancing. . . all the things.

Even more, I think, though I fully understood things were bad before, this doctor’s message really caused me to take a moment of pause because ER docs, especially those who have been in practice for 30 years, generally aren’t mushy people. . . So, for this one to remind us all, in the context of what she is facing, to tell our people that we love them (and, yes, DO)? She’s seeing some ungodly things right now.

Life never has any guarantees and these are particularly perilous times.

Memento mori. Remember you must die.

Or, said differently, dust we are and to dust we will return.

It’s truly not a morbid thing, simply a reminder to love our people big and well today.

And to look after each other, especially now. Check on your people. We’re all pretty damn scared, I think. We need each other.