And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.

I don't understand why the good ones are always taken early.

The rude, crusty, angry people always live until they are 100..... and yet the wonderful, loving, giving people die of horrible illnesses, accidents, and bizarre occurrences. It's the one thing in life that I can't make sense of.

My Uncle Harold died today of a massive heart attack. No warning, no early signs of anything. One second he was fine, the next he was gone. His daughter Dee Ann is 7 months pregnant with what would have been his first grandchild. He never smoked, he never touched alcohol, and he was always on the go, helping everyone else out. He was 61.

Harold was always so great to my parents, and when my father died - he always looked out for my Mom. He fixed appliances, moved furniture for her, painted, and made sure she was doing okay. He had a phenomenal character, and was an inspiration to everyone. I'll miss him. If I end up being half the person he was, I'd consider myself blessed.

I still don't get it. There are some things in life that aren't fucking fair and this is one of them.