Tonight, I heard that somebody I used to work with died. Complications from a struggle with H1N1, his obituary said. He was only two years older than I am.
It's strange, but part of me feels like I should be feeling worse. I didn't know the man very well, but I did know him. A year ago, we worked together. He sat a few seats down from me. He was a funny man. A little weird, but funny. I know he was fired for carving his name into a filing cabinet. I know he was overweight and that walking up and down two flights of stairs numerous times, five days a week, was helping him shed pounds like crazy. I knew he liked computers.
But we went our seperate ways when he left the company, and I didn't think much of him until today, when I found out about his death.
His passing didn't leave a big hole in my life, but it left holes in somebody's life, and that's something to be considered. He wasn't a perfect person -- nobody is! -- but he is no less worthy of remembering, and no less worthy of being mourned.
Tonight, I send out prayers of healing and comfort to his family, and a wish that his soul goes speedily to the afterlife of his choosing.