Mr. R. called me last night while he was at work.
“J.J.’s dead. He didn’t come to work and he didn’t call in. He wouldn’t answer his phone so we came over here.”
“Where are you now?”
“We’re at J.J.’s house. Scott went in and found him. He was on his bed.”
According to Mr. R., J.J.’s car was in the driveway with the wipers sticking up. There was a bucket of water and a sponge beside the car. The assumption is that he was washing his car and began to feel badly so he went inside to lie down. He lived alone so it wasn’t until he didn’t show up for work that he was missed. Coworkers had to break into his house and find him. He was forty-four.
That’s about the saddest story I’ve ever heard.
And a sobering reminder to do the things you mean to do, sooner rather than later.
Say the things you mean to say, sooner rather than later.
Love those around you and let them know that you do.
Because you just never know.