Up early in the mournin(g) dressed in black...

I saw a woman I used to work with today. We were co-workers for about 3 years and then I left after getting a promotion. She remained and joined the management team shortly before her 27th birthday-now she'll be 26 forever.





In those 3 years we worked together, I never interacted with her in a significant way; unfortunately, I learned later that we shared an affinity for all things nerdy. She was also a bit of a social misfit and not yet as deft as I at hiding it. On my way to her funeral service I began thinking about why I was driving to the death party for a person I barely knew.

Then I'm in the funeral thinking about all the wrong things and looking at the shapely women and I couldn't train my mind on what was going on at all. It was like I was deliberately trying to avoid the whole deal- not because of her death, but it was something I couldn't quite touch. I'm a pretty morbid guy and Lord knows living in Baltimore "6 million ways to die" City has prepared me for fates worse than death; yet, there was something about her service that left me cold. I turned in my pew and saw all these random young people in dark, sad, clothes and I realized the source of my concern.

We were all like her, not dead of course but still the same. She was a "normal", professional young person just starting her "big girl" job and probably working on or dreaming about whatever her other aspirations may be and just generally living her life. That describes about me and 90% of my friends sans the drug dealers and general ne'er-do-wells.

A freshly minted grown up and outta nowhere Bong! she's dead.

Then my face got hot and I couldn't see. I thought God was judging me with blindness for lusting after all that church cleavage, but it was the tears that had been welling up in my eyes for the whole service.

Exeunt!