Sad.

I don't think the feeling ever changes. The sinking, nauseating, stomach flip that you get when you are told that someone that you have always known has died.

I had just curled up in the mass of my pillows when my phone started buzzing on the night stand. Thinking it was trigirl82 calling back to talk about Training Peaks some more I grabbed it and hesitated when I saw that it was my mom and I didn't want to talk all night. I answered and she had her, something-bad-happened, voice on.

A few hours ago my brother received a call from a good friend of his that the dad of one of our childhood friends' was found dead by his wife. My brother's friend was heading over to the house to assess the situation and be there with the wife.

This is a person, that although it has been years since technically I have been a child, he was a pillar in the growing up years. He was a great parent to his own kids and a great role model for all of the other kids that he was involved with. I can't even begin to count the times that he would go skiing with us, play basketball, make us go running (yes, make us because we didn't want to go), and was jut all around a really quality person. Probably one of the most quality people that you will meet in your life. He genuinely cared about those around him and in short made the world a better place. My thoughts go out to his family and friends, of which he had a lot. It's hard to imagine what they are going through.

I guess I get sappy when people die. I don't know why. Call it a soft spot. It makes me want to hug people (don't you wish you were here so I could hug you?) or talk to them more or care about them more or spend time with them more. It's a weird dichotomy because a part of me doesn't want to get close to people because then it won't hurt if something happens to that relationship, but the other part loves those memories and moments of spending time with another person.

This July marks the four year anniversary of my best friend's death which was very difficult. I hated watching her struggle for life and having cancer eat away at her 24-year-old body. That's not something that anyone should have to battle. It churns up these old memories again I suppose. I guess in the end we all die. It's what we do while we are living that counts. Sometimes I forget that.

Go hug your parents.