Death of a Classmate

I just learned of that one of my classmates from college suddenly and involuntarily died of a heart attack at age 32.

It’s the first time I responded to the news of a death with urgency. Like there’s this hot coal here and I need to get as much work out of it as possible before it cools down… except that I have no idea what work I want to get out of it.1

I know what I’m supposed to get out it. Definitely a greater appreciation for life, both mine and those of my remaining loved ones, probably some magnanimity as well. For whatever reason it feels wrong to reach for any of these, at least directly. I probably should (they seem super lindy as responses to death go) but something about my having had a bad day is making me want to gamble.

I feel angry. I feel strangely ashamed of this anger? I seem to be trying to hide it from you or disown it. I’m not angry at some being for taking him or angry that he was so young. I’m angry at the world for being so completely broken that things like this aren’t tragedies. Oh! Never mind, I just realized that was high-minded bullshit as I typed it. I’m angry at myself for being part of the problem. Yup, that hit the note that only uncomfortably true things can hit.

I’m angry at myself because I was having a bad day over admiration I felt entitled to but wasn’t receiving.2 I was conscripted to fight the ego’s fight and ended up further away from my goals as a result.

I want to try to take myself less seriously. It’s perfect because he was so joyous and egoless. I can’t imagine him having the kind of day I was having when I heard of his death. I can’t tell if it’s a coincidence or not that that the trait I ended up wanted to solidify after hearing of his death is one that he exemplified.