I found out today that someone I know and have worked with in the past died. He had a sudden, massive heart attack. He left behind a wife and a daughter. He was 36.
When Baby Girl was born, I found it difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that my life had changed so completely in such a brief moment. One second I was pregnant and the next I was being taken into surgery and then she was in the world and off to the NICU.
However, that description of events is filled with misperceptions. I actually had nine months to think about how my life would change, nine months to absorb how this would change how I thought of the world.
But I find myself right now very unable to wrap my mind around this. It seems impossible that in a moment--a moment when I was probably doing nothing more extraordinary than trying to figure out how my web cam works--he was gone; he left this place.
Grief is an unremitting bastard. We live these lives of ours, and we take the presence of others for granted. Then grief brings us to that precipice of quiet desperation, and we plunge headlong.