A very dear friend of ours lost her father yesterday. He had been in the late stages of Alzheimer's, so it did not come as a shock. My wife and I went to the funeral today and while there, I couldn't help but be reminded of the passing of my own loved ones.

Most of us above the age of 40 have lost someone close to us. Some of us have lost more. My father died way too early at the age of 74. All four of my grandparents have died as well. I've lost a brother-in-law to cancer when he was just 36, and two first-cousins - one a beautiful 21-year-old girl, whom I was close to, and just recently, a 40-year-old father of three.

My childhood was also marked with the pain of death. Unfortunately, it often seemed like my class was cursed. I've lost five classmates over the years, which is a lot when you consider I went to small private schools all my life. One of them died amidst a scandalous relationship with a teacher in the late 70's. Another from a suicide.

I think the most disturbing one involved a classmate's younger brother. His friends robbed his house for drug money and ended up killing his mother. Another story I remember was when I was about 4-years-old. A member of my father's synagogue in Knoxville, Tennessee (my dad was a Rabbi), had ties to organized crime. Apparently, they Wanted to send him a message. Unfortunately, the message was in the form of the brutal rape and murder of his wife.

In yet another story from Knoxville, a bad batch of seafood took the life of two members of the synagogue, including one child.

A friend of mine told me recently that I should write a book about all these crazy experiences I've had. I guess it would make for good copy, but truthfully, who would believe it? I was very, very close to being a statistic as well, as I have a hard time believing it. The stories I could tell would make most people either consider me very lucky, or exceptionally unlucky.

I fall somewhere in between.

I worked as a "pre-need" specialist for a while back in the '90s. I guess growing up the son of a Rabbi left me with the ability to comfort those in mourning. It also left me with an ability to deal with death.

Even with these "abilities", I never faced death head-on until my heart attack. Since the I had the transplant, I've learned to no longer leave any day unappreciated. Oh, I may get angry or sad, the latter of which I do a lot, but I never fail to thank G-d each night for giving me that day.

It's an odd feeling that most people can't appreciate. Unfortunately, it leads to differences in perception. I don't go around acting proud for being in this situation. G-d knows, I'd have preferred not being sick at all. But it does allow me to speak about the subject of death with less anxiety.

Why am I telling all of you this?

I have no idea. It was just on my mind today.