I’m not sure when mortality first taps a person on the shoulder.

I do not know if that crooked hand arrives at a certain time in life, or when adverse health descends like a thick fog on a moonless night, or maybe it is a combination plate of both.

It just seems like more and more, I’m either going to the funerals of friends, meeting with friends who have just come from the doctor’s office, or making an appointment with the doctor myself.

Rocky Lesnau will be buried tomorrow. He owned a heating and cooling company in Armada. He was a good guy, a great husband, father, and grandfather. Cancer is the bastard that took him.

Tim Bryant, the media relations director of Fox Sports Detroit, died a week or so ago. Tim was genuinely a super person. His good nature did not get switched off as soon as the lights went off in his office. Tim was in Florida when he died in his sleep. He left behind a wife, Teresa, a son, Danny, and a lot of sorrowful friends.

A few months ago, Ken Gibbs left us. We lived in the same neighborhood, and Ken and his wife, Debbie, were good friends. Not too long before he was felled by a brain aneurysm, Ken came over to reconfigure an old entertainment center of ours. It had been fine for the 27-inch Zenith we’d had for years, but was woefully miscast for the large screen Panasonic television we had purchased. Ken brought his saw, a few other tools, and his expertise.  Debbie, his two daughters, and their grandkids certainly miss him.

Three friends gone in the span of a handful of months. I do sports for a living, I do not do obituaries. Especially those of friends. This is getting downright discouraging. Rest in peace, guys. May God bless you.