David McElroy

Millions of lives are suddenly on hold lately. The crisis brought on by the new coronavirus has left many people jobless. It’s destroying companies — both large and small — and it’s forcing some of us to change plans that we had been ready to execute this year.

I didn’t realize how much this had affected me mentally until I put some things together Friday afternoon. Then I spent the weekend thinking about where I stood — and what I can do. I don’t have a new plan yet, but I discovered that the most important decision I could make was to take control back instead of waiting to see what others do to solve this crisis.

The audio embedded below is about eight and a half minutes long.

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There’s nothing in the world which teaches me to appreciate life quite the way death does.

When I was young, death seemed so far off for me that it didn’t seem real. Although I have a vivid memory of seeing the body of a man who had just been killed when I was about 10, that didn’t seem like something that could happen to me. It was only years later that I really found meaning in that.

I was one of the lucky ones who never had anybody in his life die other than the people we expect. My mother’s father died when I was about 5. I remember going to the funeral home and touching his cold body, but death didn’t seem surprising with an older person. All the other deaths I saw in the coming years were older people who were related to me. Not a one seemed surprising or “too soon.”

Some people experience a rough early introduction to death — especially those who unexpectedly lose a parent, a sibling or a close friend — but for me, death was almost an abstract concept.

Until the last few years. Death seems very real to me now.

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There are moments when I love my life so much that the joy is almost painfully overwhelming.

These moments happen every day. They’re the moments when I’m in love with the world and with the beauty all around me — and more than anything else, with the people and things which I’ve chosen to love.

Tuesday evening, Lucy rode with me to get gasoline for the car. She loves her little car trips and she seems to be happy to be close to me. The photo above is her sitting in my seat while I was outside filling the car‘s tank.

As we headed back home, Lucy put her head on my right shoulder and nuzzled my neck. She was happy and wanted to be close. As I reached my right hand up to rub the fur of her head, I felt filled with love for her — and love for the joy of this moment of being with her.

It’s those shared moments of love and gratitude and pure joy which I most miss about having the love of a partner in my life.

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