Big Dreams.

Every time it happens it's different. Comes from a different left field, hits in a different part of the chest, feels like a different ton of bricks. Sometimes I am full of words and can't keep them inside but this time, like some other times, I am at a loss.

Young life taken is never easy to understand and the more often it happens the more confusing it gets. The first time it is all new and wild and the hurt is deep. Each time after there are other questions. Other hurts. This time I sit and wonder, not yet on the brink of tears but numbed by the news, what is the lesson from this? Did we need another reminder of the fragility of life? Of the constant presence of mortally? Did we need a reason to tell those around us we love them, just because we do, or can we learn to do what makes us happy now instead of putting it off?

I am not sure those are even the right questions. I think all I can, all any of us can do, in these moments is be sad if and when we need to and to try to remember fondly the good times we had with those we lost. That and listen to some country songs and have a drink in their honour.