I've been off the road since 31 October. It was too much. Too many nights in hotels, too many miles in the truck, and too much political BS with the customer. Just now, two months later, I finally feel decompressed. I feel again like I have control over my life. I feel again like I have a family that loves me as much as I love them. It is delightful.
Alas, something awful has taken place. A man who I had the privilege and pleasure to know for 10+ years has passed away. No one knows what happened. He was at work on Monday and in a coma by Thursday. I wrote something earlier I was going to post on Facebook, but I didn't feel it was appropriate, out of respect for a family that has always been very silent about emotion. However, this is my blog, and I can paste it here.
We are born with the inevitability of death. When we are children, it is not something about which we think. When we are teenagers and young adults, it is something towards which we feel invincible. At some point, each of us grasps the concept of said inevitability. By no means does it make it easier, or less sad, or less frightening. We just know that the day will come when we will take our last breath, consciousness will cease, and we will return our physical bodies to the universe from whence we came. There is a perverse beauty in humanity that we know this time will come, but our hearts break when those we love succumb to the inevitable, particularly when the death happens too soon. Particularly when the person who has succumb is kind, gentle, and a friend to every person he meets. We all die, but dammit, why can't the good ones stick around a little longer?
