Strength doesn't always appear in common ways.

There are few words to describe the day I've had. Shocked? Stressed? Overwhelmed? Relieved? Thankful? Sad? Those are just a few words to describe some of the things I have felt and thought over the past 12 hours.

This morning I was driving to pick up my mom to take her for a routine colonoscopy. Ten minutes before I arrived to pick her up, one of my co-workers, T, called to let me know that our other co-worker, J, had suffered a heart attack last night (we're a small 4 person office if you count our supervisor, C, who is only on site once a week). T didn't know any details, other than the fact that he'd had a heart attack. I was worried, but knew J was young, strong, resilient, and would be fine. The details could be dealt with later.

I got my mom to her appt, and a few hours later I received another call, this time from C. I hope this conversation will not forever haunt me, though I have played this conversation over in my head dozens of times. It's hard to forget.

C, "Hey kid, what's shaking? When was the last time you saw J?"
Me, "Um, 4 o'clock yesterday when he left work."
C, "Well, it was the last time you'll ever see him. He dropped dead last night."

My heart dropped and I began shaking (which rarely happens to me). And then the details came out. Yes, J had a massive heart attack. He was at home, and his wife and son found him keeled over. They called 911 and no efforts to revive him worked. Gone. Just like that. I feel horrible for his wife and son (13 yrs old), and it's just before the holidays. J just turned 49 a few weeks ago. I can't even begin to touch on the many reasons for why it is so unfair for him to have died. He was a good person, and he was so proud of what a great husband and father he was. He adored his family, and he talked about them all the time. To just have his life ripped away without warning like that just leaves me feeling so sick with heartache for his family.

Tonight Mr.P and I were watching last night's episode of "How I Met Your Mother" (our favorite show we DVR'd) and there was a scene where Ted encounters his fiance's ex-husband in a karate outfit, and I felt so sad thinking, "This is so applicable to a situation J dealt with! Damn, if he didn't die last night I would so tell him about this TV storyline tomorrow and he would get such a kick out of it." But there will not be a tomorrow for me to see him.

That's the problem with death. Especially unexpected death. At another point this evening I opened the drawer that houses my cookie cutters. I saw my newest ones, a republican elephant and a democratic donkey along with my red/white/blue sprinkles I bought in prep for election day. I exclaimed to Mr.P, "Oh shit, J won't get to see my election day cookies. He would appreciate them more than anyone else in the office." I felt a genuine sadness for the lost opportunity to share my future election day cookies with him. How stupid is that? How selfish is that to be upset that a dead person won't get to see/enjoy my dumb cookies?

Really, what right do I have? Who am I? I'm just a co-worker. We worked together for the past 2.5 years. We shared an office, and our desks were adjacent (much like Jim and Dwight on "The Office"). Sure, J and I got along for the most part, but we definitely had our major differences and we were both very vocal about pointing out "the right way" (which wasn't the same way) of how to do things. We didn't really hang out outside of work, except that he and his wife came to my wedding last year, and earlier this summer Mr.P and I went sailing with them on their boat one evening (this is how I want to forever remember J - how he looked when he was sailing. He was focused, yet relaxed and at ease and in his element in a way I never saw him at work).

We had a very volatile political argument yesteday afternoon (him defending Gov. Christine Gregoire against my reasons why she didn't deserve re-election). Following the argument we had our "quiet time" where we ignored each other for a bit, but in the last hour of the day we chatted again, and when he left we were on good terms and gave each other a genuine farewell for the day.

It will probably take awhile to complete the full circle of grief, and to stop the feelings of sadness, guilt, and anger that keep coming over me. I'm trying to just close my eyes during these moments, and picture J sailing his boat with the wind in his hair.