Aidan P, Rest In Peace

I found out yesterday that a friend had a fatal accident last week. It's thrown me into a state of shock and I can't stop myself thinking about it.

People die, I know this. It's a fact of life and the ultimate, unavoidable ending. But this happens to old people. Grandmothers and grandfathers. Elderly friends of my parents. People who have lived their lives and have the crows feet and stuffed photo albums to prove it. This doesn't happen to people my age. Aren't we all invincible until we reach retirement age? Isn't that the deal?

Aidan was only 28. He was 9 months younger than me. He once joked that I was being born when he was being conceived. He's left behind a wife and two beautiful young children. The youngest was only 8 months old. She'll never get the chance to learn first hand what a wonderful and loving person her father was. She doesn't get to grow up hearing his stupid jokes and listening to his infectious laugh. She won't get to experience his crazy driving or have to endure his System of a Down cds at full volume. She doesn't have the chance to discover that her father was the world's greatest optimist. Constantly full of life and enthusiasm, he always had the ability to find the humour in everything. Part of me is still expecting him to jump out at any minute, laughing, telling us it was just all a prank. Maybe that's just his optimism that's rubbed off on me. Maybe that's because I can't quite believe that he really has gone. Maybe I should just be happy that I had the privilege of knowing him during his very short life. Maybe this is just fate and was meant to happen. Maybe I don't believe in fate anymore...

I'll miss you Aidan.