It was, by some accounts, perhaps most accounts, a very difficult year for me and my family.

That spring, my mother-in-law, a quiet and gentle woman, died a quiet and gentle death. Although her passing was of the kind we all hope for, it still left a deep void, an absence where once there was a loving presence.

Only a few weeks later, we discovered that my own father had lung cancer. He had waged a brave battle but eventually entered into the care of his community's hospice and prepared for the end. It was enormously difficult to watch this vigorous and vital man shrivel up before our eyes. Our prayer was that his death would be easy.

In December, one of our dearest friends who happened to be married to my brother, called with the sad news that her year long war against cancer was colluding with the illness as the victor. Our hearts broke as we pondered the impact of her dying upon her husband and children, her friends and community and, of course, on us.

Those days a shadow of grief followed us around. There was a tinge of sadness to just about all that we did. There were times when even the beautiful mountains that have sustained us for so many years seemed a little less beautiful.

Still, life continues and even as we bade goodbye to some friends, we welcomed others. The pain of our loss was tempered by the pleasure found in the presence of those who shared their love with us. I ached each time I said goodbye to my sister-in-law or my father but I couldn't help but smile when I thought of friends who were about to receive a new adopted son or when my own son shared a funny story from school. The tears shed in the middle of the night were made bearable by the embrace of my wife. The sadness of life was held in check only by the joy of living.

Loss, disappointment, death...these are unavoidable elements of the human condition but they are only part of our condition. There is also friendship, beauty, joy. It is only when these parts are combined that we begin to understand and experience the profundity of being alive.

The ancient religion of Taoism uses as its paramount symbol a circle that contains the Chinese representations of yin/yang. These are the polarities inherent in all of life: day and night, life and death, male and female. A healthy life is one that contains both elements at the same time. It is a life of balance.

Too often we think that in order for life to be good it must not include those elements we normally describe as negative. Indeed, movements within my own religion have spent inordinate amounts of time and energy trying to develop a philosophy that does away with death, disappointment and loss. Unfortunately, what it does away with instead is the balanced life, the healthy life.

To live fully is to encounter both the dark and the light, the pleasure and the pain. The fact that my family grieved the deaths of three loved ones in that year, profoundly sad as it was, also made us incredibly aware of how much we meant to each other. The recognition of both the fragility and transitory nature of existence call us to cherish our time together. Petty disagreements fade to the background in the face of the awesome awareness that death and loss brings.

Such an appreciation can lead us to a growing resolution to savor each day fully.

Not too long ago, I listened to a telephone answering machine invite me to leave a message. "Have a grateful day!" the disembodied voice concluded.

I intend to try, daily.