I returned home safely from Barcelona, only to be greeted by the worst kind of email from Palo Alto. Can someone please tell me why it's always the most charismatic, full of life people who get taken away painfully prematurely? The rare ones who are truly happy with who they are and what they're doing in life. The funniest ones, the spontaneous ones, and the ones that make really good friends. The irony of it makes my heart ache.
As much as I want to hypothesize as to why this might be the case, it seems all too analytical at a time like this. Though, is there ever a good time to think about it? We never ask why until tragedy strikes. Do we, then, just accept it as one of those incomprehensibly cruel facts of life?
Note on the photo. A few months ago, Dan sent me a small package containing two pieces of his chocolate. He'd decided to take a break from grad school to focus on his artisan, fair trade creations. His chocolate and note were delicious.
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