In perhaps the greatest paradox of all, it seems that it takes death to make us appreciate life.

I suppose you could say it every week, every day for that matter, but this week in particular a number of deaths made me realize the sanctity of human life.

The week started with the horrible news that a young woman, Kayla Mueller, was the latest senseless murder at the hands of the terrorist group known as ISIS.

A woman who was in a dangerous place for the purest of all possible reasons – serving others.

As the week progressed, word of other deaths continued to make the pages of this newspaper and newspapers throughout the world.

In my chosen profession, we lost two giants this week.

“60 Minutes” correspondent Bob Simon died as the result of a car accident.

Simon was a man who made a name for himself as a war reporter, first in Vietnam and later in the Middle East. It was in Iraq that he became a prisoner of war for more than a month.

A reporter whose quest for the truth continually put his life at risk, died in the most ordinary of circumstances.

New York Times media critic David Carr, who overcame the obstacles of poverty, addition and illness was unable to make it over one final hurdle.

He died suddenly Thursday – at work- doing what he was put on this earth to do.

He was 58. The age that I will turn Sunday.

Maybe that’s why death, and the preciousness, if there is such a word, of life has hit me so hard this week.

In North Carolina, three young college students, the bulk of their lives seemingly laid out before them, were murdered, execution style, by a neighbor who had long been recognized as a problem by neighbors.

I was listening to a radio interview on public radio Friday. In a bizarre coincidence it featured an interview in May between a beloved teacher and her former student.

The student, Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha, was one of the murdered students, along with her husband and sister.

The teacher was telling the young woman how happy she was to learn of her recent marriage to another former student, Deah Shaddy Barakat.

“I just know you will be together for the rest of your lives,” the teacher said.

Neither could fathom at the time that she was speaking in terms of months, not years.

This week also brought sad news to my world.

My brother called me this week, not to wish me a Happy Birthday, but to inform me that our friend Larry had died.

One of the nicest, hardest-working men I know died suddenly of an apparent heart attack. He was my age as well.

I could go on at length at what Larry meant to me and how many memories of my youth have him in them. Perhaps I’ll save that for another time.

What I’m left with amidst all the deaths this week is how precious this gift of life really is – and how easily it can be taken away.

When Larry, and the others I’ve referred to, woke up on their last day on earth this week, not one of them thought it would be that – their last day.

They went about the normal routines of life, innocent to the fact that the world of those who loved them would be altered forever.

Forgive me, if I come across a bit dark and morbid, that’s not my intention, for what I’m feeling at this moment is anything but.

I was asked long ago how surviving cancer had changed my life. My answer was “After cancer, getting a flat tire is not big deal.”

I try to live that way. We are all bothered by the little day-to-day trials of life. But the events of this week remind me that sub-zero temperatures, shoveling snow and unexpected challenges at work are all blessings. Blessings that need to be cherished.

Today we celebrate Valentine’s Day. The one day of the year where we are to pay special attention to those we love. Shouldn’t we be doing it the other 364 as well?

There is a reason I call this column “Half Full.” It’s a reminder that regardless what I may encounter throughout the day, the glass is never half empty.

Life is a wonderful gift. It’s just too bad that sometimes it takes a death to remind us of that.

Mark Wilcox is Managing Editor of the Daily Mining Gazette.