I'm feeling philosophical this week, so bear with me, friends.

The tragedy of the sudden, unexpected deaths of Kobe Bryant, his daughter, and their friends and colleagues in that helicopter crash last Sunday was yet another sad and shocking reminder of the uncertainty of life.

We call these deaths “untimely” because we feel that the deceased were cheated out of the lives they were expecting, that Biblical allotment of three score and ten.

Yet we are not promised anything in this life. We are not, in fact, promised tomorrow.

How does that saying go? We plan, God laughs. As one of my dear friends often says, “We control nothing.” A sobering thought, but true.

Anytime we hear about the unexpected death of a beloved public figure, we seem to go into a state of sorrow which can trigger our always-unfinished grief for people in our own lives. We all have loved ones that we miss desperately and seeing such public grieving reminds us of our losses.

So what are we to do about this? First, we must grieve. We mourn the loss of the ones we loved, those whose smiles and laughter were part of our days, whose warm companionship and love made life richer and deeper.

Each person's grief takes its own path; for some, those first sharp pains of loss soften into cherished memories that sustain and comfort. For others, the loss remains fresh and real and debilitating.

We could sit around, wringing our hands at the prospect of our own inescapable mortality. We could curse our fate and shake our fist at a Universe that allows such things to happen. And we definitely need the time to do that. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light,” as poet Dylan Thomas wrote.

But as Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard said, “(Life) must be lived forward.”

And as I contemplate this uncertain life given us, I always go back to that marvelous speech by Emily Webb Gibbs, a character in Thorton Wilder's classic play “Our Town”. Emily has died in childbirth and asks to go back to relive a day in her life.

The Stage Manager agrees to let her. The day chosen is her birthday and the Webb family is gathering at breakfast.

She says, “Oh, Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama! Fourteen years have gone by! But, just for a moment now we're all together, Mama, just for a moment let's be happy. Let's look at one another! I can't! I can't go on! It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed! Take me back, up the hill, to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look! Goodbye, goodbye, world. Goodbye, Grover's Corners. Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you! Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it-every, every minute?” Emily asks the Stage Manager.

He responds, “No, the saints and poets, maybe. They do some.”

Dear readers, that is our challenge, to realize the beauty of everything in our lives while we are still here.