It's funny how just the first few notes of a song can evoke vivid memories.

You may associate a song, songwriter or singer with such important people as a first love, a grandparent or a best friend. Or they may bring back a particularly lonely or heartbreaking time, a great triumph or just a particularly happy day.

One song I vividly remember from the time I moved to Beijing in 2014 was the theme song from the 2008 Olympic Games. The song's title, Beijing Huan Ying Ni, or Beijing Welcomes You, had great meaning for me at a time I was looking for a new home.

The reason all this comes to mind is that several singer/songwriters who had that ability to evoke memories from my youth died in the past few weeks. This has been a time of loss, overshadowed by a pandemic that has swept the globe like a roaring wildfire.

One of these musical talents, John Prine, was described by William Grimes in The New York Times as a "raspy-voiced country-folk singer whose ingenious lyrics" were at different times "poignant, angry and comic". Prine often was seen as a successor to iconic musician Bob Dylan, yet never had a chart-topping tune. He died from complications of novel coronavirus pneumonia on April 7 at age 73 in Nashville, Tennessee, in the United States.

Like many of the best folk singer/songwriters, Prine's genius was in being able to distill the travails of average people in a way that showed the absurdities and humor of life. In Sam Stone, he describes the broken, scarred life of a soldier home from a war. In Angel from Montgomery, he writes about the hardscrabble existence of a middle-aged woman dreaming of a better life.

John Prine came into my life during my years at the University of Georgia in the United States. You could grab a beer and sit out on the deck of T.K. Harty's Saloon, our favorite bar, and listen to his tunes. I eventually listened to less of Prine because he was the favorite of a girlfriend who broke my heart. But, as I got older, I realized that breaking my heart was the greatest gift she could have given me－the relationship never would have worked－and I no longer held it against John.

Another great musical loss was not from COVID-19. Bill Withers, who died from heart trouble on March 30 at age 81 in Los Angeles, California, wrote such classics as Lean on Me, about the power of friendship, and Ain't No Sunshine, a haunting ballad of romantic longing.

Still, Withers' passing had a link to the world's current problems. As Mark Kennedy wrote for the Associated Press:"His death comes as the public has drawn inspiration from his music during the coronavirus pandemic, with health care workers, choirs, artists and more posting their own renditions of Lean on Me to help get through the difficult times."

Also, no one who grew up to Bill Withers' music or ever longed for a missing love could avoid relating to his soulful lyrics:"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, It's not warm when she's away, Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, And she's always gone too long, Anytime she goes away."

While these times of pandemic will continue to be times of loss, especially of elders who have contributed so much, it also is a good time to remember the mark they left in life.

It's a good reason, too, to reflect on what we can contribute, what mark we can leave, while we still have time to do so.

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