Holy Shmoly. Nobody else die for a while, OK?

At the end of this three-day holiday weekend, I'll be flying to Ontario, then driving to Palm Desert to attend the funeral of my cousin's husband, who died this week after a long battle with ALS. I found out about that two days ago. Yesterday I found out my step-grandfather died in Santa Barbara. We've been estranged for more than 20 years, but I'm sad that he died. I do have some good memories of him from my childhood. It'd be awkward to attend that funeral, but I'm sore in my heart for my aunt, who's having to deal with losing her dad, and her kids, who lost their grandfather. This afternoon I found out a close colleague's father died yesterday. I made a note in my calendar to sit down and write her a condolence letter the morning after I get back from the funeral in Palm Desert. Then I packed up my computer and notebook and left work. On the way home, I saw a male mallard standing beside his mate, who'd been hit and killed by a car, nudging her desperately with his bill. Mallards mate for life, so when I saw this, it just topped everything off and I dropped into a dreary funk. Hey out there. Everyone I know? Yes, you. No more dying for a while, OK? Just cut that out.