I'm at that age where I'm steadily losing members of my family.  It's not a surprise; in fact, it's something of a miracle that I've made it this far without being stripped of those people who stand between me and the shadowy boundaries of life.  Still, it's a shock to realize that we'll never again be gathered around that big table at Christmas or the fourth.  There won't be any more of my grandmother's coconut cake, bottle rockets in the back yard, or vast family games for which only some great aunt knows the rules.  Even the house where we all gathered is sold, and will be a part of some other family's memories.
The only stories that remain are now mine to tell.  

While those loses of family are both sad and expected, I'd like to talk about another loss that came this year.  Someone who was not part of my family.  Someone who had only barely shaded from the role of colleague to friend in the last months that we worked together.  Someone whose courage and grace were, and continue to be, a lesson I hope never to forget.