Newscoma

Yesterday, we got the news that the former General Manager at the paper had died in his sleep during the night. I had worked with him about fifteen years ago when I was the news director for the local radio station and we would meet up at board meetings and whatnot to cover stories.

He always made me laugh because he would nap during the board meetings, something I wish I could have done, quite frankly.

He was a nice guy and had worked for the paper for 27 years. The women at the office who had worked under him were understandably upset that he had passed away because they liked him.

Life is fleeting, isn’t it?

Also, yesterday, former Sen. Milton Hamilton’s wife died, who is friends with the owner of the paper. As he spends most of the winter in Florida, he is returning to go to her funeral

On top of it, the office manager’s mother is nearly 100 years old and sick, very sick. When I asked her yesterday how her mother was, she blurted “she’s dying.” The look on her face was something I can’t hardly put into words. I could feel the sorrow and grief just pouring off of her. You could see it drowning her and there isn’t anything anyone can do to take the hurt away. No words can console people when their loved ones are ailing or have died. It’s just something that can’t be fixed.

No words can console.

I woke up this morning around 1 a.m. My sinuses are bothering me and I can’t sleep. These things are playing on my mind.

Thinking about life in the midst of so much death.  The thing about not being able to sleep when the house is still is that certain things weigh on the mind.

I’m going to see if I can get a couple of hours more of sleep before I go back to the grind tomorrow.

And the night goes on.