I couldn’t wait for a cup of coffee to jump-start an idyllic late morning in Missoula in summer 2019. My children and I were about to visit the Missoula Art Museum, and we just ordered breakfast.

However, I received a message just as the java arrived. While reading the shocking note, my hand knocked over the cup, and its contents spilled all over the table.

“What’s wrong?” my daughter Jillian asked. It was evident that something horrible happened.

My friend Kyle’s daughter, Sophia, a sweet 6-year-old, was diagnosed with a rare form of brain cancer, DIPG. The prognosis wasn’t good.

Sophia was given a year to live barring a miracle cure. DIPG almost exclusively affects children. Those between ages 4 and 11 years old are typically stricken.

Due to the tumors’ location in the brain stem, surgery is impossible. Family history apparently has no impact. It’s an arbitrary nightmare.

When Kyle spoke of the unimaginable pain he and his family were suffering the following month, we embraced as he quietly sobbed. I wish that I could have offered some solace as I felt the heat generated by his 6-foot-3 frame. However, there is little to do except offer support, when needed.

Sophia recently passed away after a courageous 15-month battle that she had no chance of winning. It’s inexplicable how such a bright and beautiful young lady could be taken away at such an early age.

Not that we need any more perspective, but my children recently shared a viral package featuring two people complaining about how isolated they are and how inconvenient the coronavirus has been for them.

After catching that clip and thinking about all the people who have been evicted and those who are scrounging for food and what my friend and his wife, Jen, are going through, such selfishness just blows me away.

Normalcy, or something close to it, will return someday. Life for most of us could be worse. When I think of Kyle, what he, his wife and their family are experiencing is unfathomable.

I don’t believe there is any greater sorrow than losing a child. It must be akin to amputation. That part of your body is no longer there, but you are constantly reminded that it’s gone.

Please suppress complaints during the pandemic since so many are experiencing a greater degree of difficulty. How is that during World War II, people were asked to ration items, from sugar to steel, due to the war effort, and there was no problem? My father told me people didn’t complain.

“People just went about their business,” he said. “The war effort was bigger than anyone.”

People did what they had to do even though members of their families were off in battle. Many of those soldiers died in combat. That’s sacrifice. Missing parties isn’t a sacrifice.

Before the coronavirus struck, our mantra as a country could have been, “We want it, and we want it now!” Some can’t do without, and then I look at Kyle, who will no longer be able to share his life with his daughter, who would have turned 8 in January.

Yes, numbers are spiking during the pandemic, and it will make for a long winter, but it will get better. Exactly when? We don’t know, but most of us will be fine.

Our bout with the coronavirus, thanks to so many brilliant scientists who have been working on vaccines, will not be as bad as the plague of 1918. The Spanish flu claimed more than 50 million lives around the world, and 500 million people were infected.

The 1918 pandemic lasted more than two years. The Roaring ’20s followed. Perhaps the majority of our ’20s will be as exciting as that decade, which was one of the most celebrated in American history.

Life goes on no matter what direction our world and country travel over the next nine years. What is keeping my friend Kyle afloat is his faith. He hopes God takes care of Sophia until he meets her again in heaven.

That reminds me of a family in a former neighboring community who experienced an unspeakable tragedy. Kevin, a 6-year-old boy, was accidentally run over by a minivan and killed in the family driveway. After the grieving process, the brood clung to their faith and started a Kevin From Heaven foundation, kevinfromheaven.org.

The foundation’s mission is providing assistance to those who are facing life-altering events.

So many lives have been altered since March. Many families lost elders, and I’m so sorry for your loss. However, those who said goodbye to a child, they deal with an ache that never goes away.

If those who lost so much can move forward, so can the rest of us as we navigate through this horrific pandemic.