This has been a month of death. My nephew passed from cancer, and two friends from my past died of Covid-19. Neither of my old friends were vaccinated and both lived in Texas. I hadn’t spoken to them in a while, but I was told they were exercising their freedom. John Ceballos was an old paratrooper, much older than myself, and he was a community leader that touched many lives, he gave me a job when I was down on my luck. James Walker was fifteen years younger than me and, when we first met, he used to call me “gramps”. I was in the war with Walker, and he had a philosophy to never speak bad of anyone. He was a quiet dude, loved to ride his Harley. I’ve always felt that we died to make room for the living, that passing was accompanied by birth but, I haven’t heard of any births this month. Aside from missing people, I think that passing from this existence is probably a good thing. The next place, whatever that may be, should be a lot nicer than here.