Beyond

As you've probably hear, Anton Yelchin, the new Chekov, died in a freak accident.

I'm a Star Trek fan, as you know. I liked Yelchin in the role. Beyond that, I don't know what to say. It's tragic that another person has joined the 27 club. This wasn't due to a fan going nuts or drugs or anything but stupid, freak luck.

What a terrible time for the family. I can't do anything but extend my condolences along with the rest of the internet.

I wanted to close this with a pithy quote, but nothing felt right. Another unsatisfying end.

Huh

Tomorrow is Saturday (No, you're not time traveling, I write in advance. We've been over this). I will be at my job, helping a family grieve over a wife and mother not quite one year older than me, with several young kids.

I'd dealt with a lot in my life. I lost my father five years ago last Monday, after an unexpected illness. The only thing I can say is that I got twenty two years with him. I wouldn't trade a moment of it, and I'd give a lot to get him back.

Still too young to die, but at least he'd lived quite a few decades.

This is the second time I've worked on a funeral for someone my age. The first was the first funeral I ever worked, a young man who took his life. We would have gone to high school and graduated together if I hadn't changed school systems. We may have gone to sixth grade together, but his name didn't ring any bells. I wasn't really phased: he'd been sick, and into a lot of drugs.

I don't want to be at work tomorrow.

Aside from the personal tragedy, the crying children, the relatives...No.

No aside. No complaining about how tired I am from this hellish week. No bitching about work.

I'm not always happy about what I do. But 90% of the time, it's an older person with a long life and kids, grandkids, etc. It feels better.

This feels rotten.