I've been exceptionally lucky to be born with young parents and a relatively healthy family group. I have suffered the loss of my great grandmas, grandmother (who really taught me a lot of important lessons as a child), great grandfathers and even a great-great grandfather I met once, on his deathbed, but who was a fascinating man.
Anyway, Katie Allison Granju lost her 18-year old son recently. I've been so busy I hadn't absorbed the enormity of this until I was driving back from vacation with my own kids. The mind does stupid tricks when bored and allowing the GPS to coast you along. So I visualized future years with one of my kids and then the subsequent all-stop that would occur upon their death.
I have a wildly imaginative mind. This was bad. Bad in a soul-cracking way you wind up seeing etched on the faces of those it has touched. Years later the scar of what happened is still there, and forever will be. Because you can just let go, but the immediate impact is probably not unlike getting shot out of a cannon. It was, ultimately, still unimaginable. The pain, the loss, the urge to let go but the feeling that somehow it can't be so. If I ever believed in a god I'm hoping whatever energy is out there that is Henry's is in a wonderful place. Perhaps a place with his friends, and now that he's there they can move on. Perhaps that energy will power a sun in another system and give life energy to an entirely different world. The universe is mysterious and cruel and wonderful that way.
So my thoughts and energies go to Katie's family. Her loss in unimaginable to me, but I would hope that they catch the sick fucks that did this to Henry. You can learn more about that effort here.
one man's journey into creating gibblybits