They say death comes in threes. Last weekend, we lost one of the greatest Presidents America has ever seen.

And last night we lost Ray Charles. He was 73.

Charles recently had hip-replacement surgery in Los Angeles, but doctors diagnosed other ailments, and he never returned to good health.

Charles -- who had not missed a tour in 53 years -- gave his last concert performance on July 20, 2003, in Alexandria, Va. He canceled the remainder of his 2003 tour dates after doctors insisted that he stay off the road.

"It breaks my heart to withdraw from these shows," he said at the time. "All my life I've been touring and performing. It's what I do. But the doctors insist I stay put and mend for a while, so I'll heed their advice."

I tend to wonder, when extremely active people are told to rest, is that really the best thing for them? We've all seen cases of men who love their work, forced into retirement, only to suddenly become "old" because they have nothing to focus on. They lose momentum.

Either way, I'm sorry to lose Ray Charles. I saw him in concert at the Montreal Jazz Festival in 2000, and it was worth every penny of admission. We had a blast that night, with the Molson Centre (as it was called then) cut down to half its normal size, to create a more intimate setting. And here was this small, shrivelled old man on stage, bouncing around and forgetting everything but his music for nearly 3 hours.

Most of my favorite musical artists are dead. Elvis died when I was only 10 months old. Johhny Cash cancelled his Montreal concert at La Ronde when I was just a kid (I had bought my dad and I tickets for Father's Day), and now he's gone (well, they both are - Dad and Johnny), and Frank Sinatra, who I will ever regret not being able to see perform live, left us on the 7th anniversary of my mother's death. That was a very hard day. I was in mourning for a week. My answering machine picked up "Frank Sinatra is dead, and I am in mourning. I cannot possibly talk to bill collectors at this time. However, you may leave a message of condolence at the tone." I actually got a message of condolence from the agency trying to repossess my car!

Most of the cool people I grew up to are gone, and not just singers. A list of my legends includes Ronald Regan, of course, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Bette Davis, Jimmy Stewart (that was heartbreaking), Anthony Perkins (I cried - when I was little, I fell in love with those sad brown eyes of his - didn't matter that he was stabbing women in the shower and dressing like his mother. This may explain certain types of men I've dated...), Carey Grant, Audrey Hepburn, Pierre Trudeau (conflict of politics, I know, but you have to admit, he was way cool), Princess Diana, Mother Theresa... this list could go on forever, and I'm certain I am missing some of the big ones.

When I was 11, I made a list of the most influential people I would like to meet. Except for the Pope and Madonna, all those people are dead now.

And there's still time for the Pope to go this week - because it always comes in threes.