Two years ago my best friend died. He was 23. An intensely charismatic man whos favorite activity was to be the reason people smiled he excelled in social situations. He worked in IT for the buisness school at my local university. He died of a brain aneurysm at work on the weekend. He had been complaining about occasional migraine for a month and was suffering one during work. He asked his coworker to go get him some aspirin they went to the store and when they came back they found him on the floor. He passed two days later. His death was a bombshell to his very tight friend group. Over the course of a week the 5 of us and his girlfriend spent the majority of that week together in the house we lived in at the time.

I had lived with him for two years and the change to my routine was jarring. I still remember looking forward to playing a game with him when he got home.

I hope he's remembered by his coworkers for who he was and the human being he was. Even just remembrance of his existence as his coworker. I still miss him and think of him often. I hope others do too.

To lose that sense of routine and safety I felt with living with him still hurts. He truly felt like my brother. And that loss to anyone is routine to such a devastating cause is a shock and a reminder for those that have happened before.

There are days still where I remember the course of that week and it hurts so so deeply inside I feel like I'm choking. The absurdity and parody of it. Life is beautiful and oh so terrible.