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Thursday, August 20, 2009

When The Reaper Comes A Little Too Close For Comfort

My first real long-term boyfriend died suddenly of a heart attack this week.

That is one of the eeriest statements I have said in my life to date. Geo spotted his obituary in the paper. I don't read the obits, myself. Of course I don't read much of the paper in general anyway. But the obits, rarely if ever.

There was a lovely write up. Jim was married with two children. He had apparently got out of the journalism business (smart man) to coach hockey and other sports at a local affluent school district. According to the article, he had made quite a positive impact on the lives of the children with whom he dealt. A life well spent.

He was only 50 years old.

Fifty. That's all. And now his wife's a widow. Heart attacks aren't supposed to happen until your, like, in your seventies. And not to someone who's in good shape. Life is so fragile...

I hadn't seen or heard from him since he graduated, but it's sad and unsettling just the same. His death is like a big, fat punch of mortality to the gut. A little too close for comfort.

1 comment:

demoncat said...

you have my deepest sympathies for your lost for sad that it took finding his obitury to go back down memory lane. for one never forgets their first loves or first long times one.