Tonight has been full of emotions.
First, there was happiness. Of getting together with the two girls who have been there for me pretty much since I first moved to Stamford. Of dropping into the couch after getting home, tired but content, and responding to Ryan’s question of how my night was by exclaiming, “they are both just so nice and wonderful. True friends.”
Then there was stress and achievement. My otherwise easy-going and happy Friday before vacation is going to be marred by me having to give an hour long presentation to the higher ups. I DON’T DO PUBLIC SPEAKING. So, while still exhausted I got up off the couch and forced Ryan to listen to me drone on for 60 minutes in order to practice my presentation on XBRL (interactive data reporting for SEC documents – oh yes, it was that interesting).
And finally shock. My ex-boyfriend had a good group of guy friends in high school. Good guys – nice, smart, wholesome (for the most part) guys. But since these were guys that sided with that cheating bastard in our break-up (as is their right as his friend), I hadn’t thought about most of them in close to a decade. Until the summer Olympics came. And one of those guys was in the Olympics! I cheered for him as he walked during the opening ceremonies in London. So proud at how far he’d come. And then that was it. Life went on. Until today. Because today, almost 1 month before his 33rd birthday, he died of a heart attack. And I can’t even contemplate that fact. A nice, hard-working fellow high school alum. An Olympian. Dying of a heart attack at 32 years old. And I’ve seen the pain his friends are in. The pain his family must be in. How it all just doesn’t make sense. I’m not really sure where this post is going, except that I’m in shock.
Rest in peace, Keitani, a hui hou kakou.