Life has repeatedly reminded me that it is fragile, and precious. None of us knows how long we will live. None of us knows how long the people we love deeply will be walking this earth with us. As much as we’d like to think it is something we can control, the truth is that we cannot. Death comes. Sometimes at completely unexpected times that feel far far far too soon.

My dear friend Grace’s son died while were camping together in Yosemite just over a year ago. Grace is like a sister to me. And I adored her son, Dragon. I don’t believe I could have loved him more if he had been my own child. He didn’t need to do anything or accomplish anything or say anything for me to love him. I just loved him. All of him. Exactly as he was. Dragon died so unexpectedly. It was a completely windless night in a full campground in Yosemite Valley, and a massive tree limb fell. It fell in the middle of the night, and it landed on the tent where Dragon and his friend, Justin, slept. Two healthy, vibrant, strong, sleeping boys were killed instantly. I miss Dragon terribly, and I think of him every day. Yesterday would have been his 16th birthday. I wish with every cell in my being that I could have gone with him to the DMV to take the test for his driver’s license, that we could have enjoyed his favorite Korean barbecue together with his family and friends, that I could have heard his laughter from a distance as he and his friends joked around, showed off and teased each other. But he didn’t have 16 years. He died at 14. And none of us could have possibly prevented it. None of us saw it coming.

The thing that brought me comfort after Dragon died is the knowledge that I never held anything back from him. I showed up for critical life events (birthday parties, his 8th grade graduation), I enjoyed his company, I listened when he wanted to share what he had taught himself on whatever instrument he had recently picked up, I told him that I loved him every time I saw him.

I think that’s the greatest gift of having been adopted. I have lived my whole life with this sense that the people I love most could without warning be gone forever. I view it as a gift because it’s helped me cherish them more fully, and express my love more freely. It’s given me an unwavering ache to resolve or get over conflicts, and to tell the people I love how much they mean to me. Dragon knew that his Auntie Carla loved him. Are you showing and telling the people you love how much they mean to you?

Life is fragile. None of us can change the past, and we cannot know with certainty what the future will hold. Today is a precious gift. What I want to know is this:

Are you making choices today
that will bring you at least some comfort
when the loss that is an integral part of the fabric of life shows up?