Not a Joke

Remember how I blogged about my nervousness over my oldest driving? I talked about kids I'd known who were in car accidents.

This morning I got another call about another young life taken too early. He was in his twenties, the youngest in his family, asthmatic, drank a bit too much, liked guns and was totally charming.

I keep thinking it's a bad joke. There's nothing in the newspapers online mentioning an accident. It must of just happened. But it has to be a joke right? Because I just saw him on Saturday, talked about getting him to a bar and being his wing man, getting him a date.  He tried to argue how women selling beer are used because women want to be her and men want to be with her. I argued that I know I'm not that woman, don't want to be that woman and if the beer commercials really want to get my attention use a good looking man! They made him switch places with another so he would stop yelling his point across the table.  I snuck the last bite of pizza from my husband, opened up the garlic sauce and let him have it. He's far too skinny. Was.

My mind keeps thinking this is such a bad joke. A terrible one. I'm going to kill his brother for calling work and making it.

It's not a joke. I don't know the details. Don't care to know. I'll probably hear them somewhere down the line, but right now, I just don't care how it happened. It just happened. Again.

Such a bad joke.

Edit  The funeral is on Friday. Poop. It wasn't a car accident. Around here people hear "accident" and they think car. In some ways I feel slightly better. I'd feel fantastic if it never happened at all.