On Monday, I found out that an old co-worker of mine had passed away. He worked with me when I sold dead animal skins for a quasi-living (leather coats).
He was 26.
They're not sure what happened. He went to sleep with a headache and never woke up.
I'm still struggling to understand. Maybe that's why I've yet to write about it. I don't know what to think. It's a tragedy, for sure, but why'd it happen? What made that moment, as he laid in bed, the exact moment when he was supposed to die? What if we are all living on batteries without much juice in them? What if, when I was created from Adam's rib/alien poop/Big Bang that my batteries were bought from the Dollar General? How can we be sure that tomorrow will come and that all our procrastination will be rewarded? And why are we humans so selfish? Someone dies - someone really great and wonderful and full of life is just gone and all we can do is question our own mortality! How awful is that?!
Jason was great. Always smiling. He made working a crap-hole retail job - fun. And now - he's gone.
I can only pull together what little religious ties I have and attempt to make a pretty bow of realization - I have no clue why, what, when or how this happened.
And I don't think I ever will.
His guestbook is here, should you want to visit...