I'm 46.
Grandfather (Age 84, Cancer)
Boyfriend's Cousin (aged 32, cause kept secret, but actually HIV from heroin addiction)
Boyfriend's Great Uncle (Late 70s, Old age/heart failure)
Boyfriend's Mum's Neighbour #1's Mum (Age 86, Old Age)
Boyfriend's Mum's Neighbour #2 (Age 72, Cancer)
XP's Grandmother (Age 82, Old Age/Dementia)
Neighbour (Sepsis following liver disease/alcoholism - traveller funeral)
Another Boyfriend's Father (Age 63, Heart Failure/COPD)
My brother (Age 63, head injury from stupid cunt who was on Instagram whilst driving across a pedestrian crossing)
If I had been told about other ones that 'mattered', there would have been
Grandmother (74, cancer)
Father, (55, Cardiomyopathy)
Uncle (74, heart attack)
Aunt (72, cancer)
Best friend at school (26, RTA)
Other friend at school (16, Driving Like a Twat)
Boy in class at school (13, accidental asphyxia when messing about drunk)
Boy in class at school (15, Suicide)
And lots of miscarriages. Mercifully early ones, but they were all desperately sad.
I figure that death is an intrinsic part of life and it's right to mark it some way than pretend it's not happening. It's not weird to have been to one, or five, or fifteen. It's weird, in my opinion, to pretend that death doesn't happen, as then when it does and can't be ignored, it is far harder to handle.
I'm sure there will be another couple in the next year or so, if not more. It's what happens.