So while I’ve been bellyaching about this minor house matter and that minor yard matter, in comes the REAL news.
God help us. Please!
Turns out that my lovely and brilliant cousin, who was two or three years younger than me and who grew up in the San Francisco East Bay — where the California contingent of my mother’s family lived — dropped dead on his office floor.
Apparently he was just standing there when plop! Down he fell.
Stone dead.
Can you imagine?
He was younger than me, by several years. Very, very smart: brilliant, even, in a low-key way. And just the sweetest man you could possibly ever get lucky enough to meet: a joy to know.
Heart-breaking. Truly — no exaggeration — heart-breaking. Because he was such a lovely man. You could not hope, ever, to know a kinder, smarter, gentler guy.
Dear God! How could such a thing happen?
Apparently none of the people around him had any earlier indication that anything was wrong with him. He just. dropped. dead.
It makes me feel so sad.
He was several years younger than me. When his sisters and I were growing up, he was the little kid brother. So…seriously: how in heaven’s name could this happen?
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sure he’d be pleased to be remembered so fondly. He sounds like a wonderful man.