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I think about death. In fact, I think I do so than most. But like most folks, I think about how I could avoid it and how I could avoid be surrounded by it. I am awful with good-byes, and well, death to me, is just one big, unwelcome farewell.

This past weekend, a dear mentor and friend of mine whom I've known for a decade decided to bid adieu early. He committed suicide and left a letter for his friends to digest. Months shy of 40, he explains that endless disappointments became his overwhelming end and according to my friend, "a life not entirely made." He insists that his friends could not have stopped this from happening, but I can't help but think differently. 

The loss of someone so humble, generous, brilliant and genuinely caring... is heartbreaking. It is out of selfishness that I cry, because I know, my friend, that you're finally at peace. I should be happy for you, the way you've always sincerely been happy for me. Always smarter than the rest of us... even when gone. Ha!

But I miss you too much to say good-bye. So I won't. 

Take care, SWC. We'll meet again.