I'm at dinner Friday night, laughing with friends and family,

it allowed and fun Miami place, and someone looks at their phone.

It can happen that fast you are reminded,

the journey from living with laughter to loving with loss.

So sudden, so random, so impossibly cruel.

First, there's the shock, but before it has really been registered

or processed or even understood by something as magnificent as the human brain.

The feeling drops right into your stomach like an anchor.

With a weight so real, it feels like you can put it on a scale.

It changes everything, including you, and it drops with a jostle

and you're living organs in a way we try to describe as the heart sinking.

Grief is a sickness, a nausea, a visitor that can barge into your life

without any announcement whatsoever and drop all that heavy baggage all over your floor.

Grant is gone. What do you mean Grant is gone?

Just like that?

We talk all the time in moments like this about how death puts things in perspective.

But humans are forgetful and mortality is terrifying.

And no one would ever take an unafraid step in this world if we always knew our time here

was that kind of fragile.

Who the hell wants to think about the idea that anyone and everyone you love can be stolen,

so fast, final, and forever?

When it happens to those who are too young or too good or too close,

...