Fragility
I just found out yesterday that a former co-worker whom I considered a friend, Matt Cartwright, passed away on Monday evening. It was sudden and unexpected, a freak accident at his mother's house. He apparently fell and hit his head really hard...so hard that it was the head trauma that caused his death.
I can't wrap my mind around it. I was just starting to get back in touch with him, it'd been so long and I really wanted to reconnect and find out how he was doing. We'd worked together on all kinds of absolutely crazy projects, and he would always keep us together and keep us moving even when the client was driving him nuts or when he was angry and frustrated. He would always crack jokes and draw crazy pictures on the whiteboards and keep us laughing even on the late nights. Always made sure we were fed on the late nights, too, which was always appreciated.
I met his wife Alison on those crazy projects, too. She's a great graphic designer, and she would often come in as a freelancer to pitch in and help when things got nutty. Alison's an amazing sweetheart, and now I regret not keeping in touch with her as well.
Their first and only daughter, Ellie, turns one year old next week. She will only have pictures of her father to know him by.
I just can't wrap my mind around it. This week was supposed to be a big marketing week for me, but now I just can't focus. It doesn't seem important anymore.
I wish I weren't so pregnant, so that I could actually go to the funeral and memorial for him. It's too far to travel at 37 weeks, or possibly 38 or more once the arrangements are made. I wish I could be there. I wish there was something I could do, besides remember him and cry.
I can't wrap my mind around it. I was just starting to get back in touch with him, it'd been so long and I really wanted to reconnect and find out how he was doing. We'd worked together on all kinds of absolutely crazy projects, and he would always keep us together and keep us moving even when the client was driving him nuts or when he was angry and frustrated. He would always crack jokes and draw crazy pictures on the whiteboards and keep us laughing even on the late nights. Always made sure we were fed on the late nights, too, which was always appreciated.
I met his wife Alison on those crazy projects, too. She's a great graphic designer, and she would often come in as a freelancer to pitch in and help when things got nutty. Alison's an amazing sweetheart, and now I regret not keeping in touch with her as well.
Their first and only daughter, Ellie, turns one year old next week. She will only have pictures of her father to know him by.
I just can't wrap my mind around it. This week was supposed to be a big marketing week for me, but now I just can't focus. It doesn't seem important anymore.
I wish I weren't so pregnant, so that I could actually go to the funeral and memorial for him. It's too far to travel at 37 weeks, or possibly 38 or more once the arrangements are made. I wish I could be there. I wish there was something I could do, besides remember him and cry.