So, fourteen years ago today a good friend of mine died. He was twenty-one years old. Too young to die.

Over the years I’ve thought about him less and less. Is this natural? I don’t know. I’m not an overly emotional man, but I’ve been thinking about him, death, life in general lately.

I look at my son and daughter, and I think about the child we’re expecting, and I wonder if any of us really appreciate life as much as we should. Fragile and fleeting.

I remember the anger I felt when he died. Not mad at him, but at almost everything else. The world for moving on like nothing had happened and expecting me to do the same. Everyone who said it was going to alright.

I miss you Sean.