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The untimely passing of a good friend is never an easy thing. Until it happens to us, we usually don't realize what a profound effect it will have on our lives. It is always a great shock; one that tends to put a lot of things into perspective in very short order. It is only when this kind of loss occurs that we are truly shown how fragile life can be...how quickly it can be lost. Our daily lives often get so busy, and we encounter so many distractions, that we sometimes forget how vitally important it is to appreciate the little things that we are given. I have always wondered why it is that it takes a sad occasion like this to remind us that we must savor each experience and enjoy every single moment of this life as if it were our last.

I had a jarring reminder of these truths when I lost my dear friend Ginger at the age of sixty-one. Her death came on January 6, 2008, after a long and difficult illness. Although everyone around her knew that it was inevitable given the circumstances, we were still completely devastated and unprepared for her loss. As most people usually do in these cases, we were clinging blindly to the hope...no matter how delusional it may have been...that she would somehow beat the odds and make some kind of miraculous recovery; if there ever was anyone who could have beaten the odds, it would have been her! Right up until the moment that she drew her final breath, all of her friends held that belief wholeheartedly; and I'd have to say that it was Ginger herself who inspired that faith, and her magnificent attitude that continued to fuel it each and every day.

When I learned of Ginger's passing three days after it happened, I think I was the most surprised of all. The idea that I was never going to see her again was just so surreal to me, which I guess is a normal reaction to such news. My brain just couldn't seem to wrap itself around the information. I had, after all, spoken to her on the phone just a few short days earlier, and she hadn't seemed any better or worse than usual. In other words, she seemed like the same old Ginger. I knew that she was ill, but there was nothing in her tone or demeanor to suggest that her condition had taken such a dramatic turn for the worse. In fact, it had seemed to me that she was a bit more energetic than usual, but maybe it only seemed that way to me because I had not been around her on a daily basis.

It took a while for the news to sink in; as it did, I slowly retreated into my memories. I had

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