Erratica Reduex

On Tuesday night, I arrived to the weekly pizza/drinking meeting about the time every one else was leaving, talking on the phone to friends who were giving me tips on my job interview the next day. Devonapple said to me that "It's OK to say no I can't come", and when I was staring at the balky printer drivers, trying to figure out how to print out a resume, I wondered if I should bow out. A night that started out with "I'll see Devonapple, talk to M and get hints on the interview, and get the papers printed out, and it will be fine, just fine" turned into a nightmare. But I had to go.

You see, on Tuesday night, I turned on the computer and found that an old friend, Britt Daniels, was dead.

To be honest, I hadn't seen Britt in nearly two decades; we had been friends in the local SF group, games a lot together, and then I had lost track of him when he moved away from Santa Barbara. So it had been a surprise a year or so ago, when "Tetsujin" on rpg.net asked me if I was from Santa Barbara, and if I remembered him. We chatted a lot, and enjoyed joking about being two gaming grognards. I always enjoyed seeing his posts, which were intelligent, opinionated, witty, and always worth reading even when I disagreed with him. I had told him that I would look him up when I moved to the bay area, and I really did intend to, and maybe do some gaming.. But when I got up here, I was so distracted: job hunting, sorting out the move, depression...and he was sixty miles away, and anyway, I had plenty of time to get things sorted out before going to see him....

And I was wrong, of course. he died before I ever got my act together to see him in the flesh again. One of the most brilliant people I ever knew, gone. And all I'm left with is the knowledge of what I could have done. I can't even manage to attend the service.

But anyway, the weird thing is that night I seemed to be fine: I read the news, and though there was an immediate visceral reaction, it cleared, and I told Racerxmachina (I read the news while on the phone to her) that I'd be fine. In fact, she seemed more upset over it than I was- I had this sort of distant wonder that I was so calm. I was a bit depressed, to be sure, but I'm often a bit depressed, and anyway, I had a lot of work to do; I would take care of things come home, and think a bit, maybe write something suitable. And so I did: a printed stuff, took care of interview stuff, had some beer stuff in a pub (note to self: go back to that place), and went home. And when I mentioned it to Obsessivewoman...I started tearing up five words in, and broke down after I told her. She said I was a textbook case of someone dealing with shock, and I suppose I was. Frankly, I'm glad I waited until a safe time to release the emotions, and I'm grateful beyond words for Obsessivewoman being there.

So that's pretty much it. Not much of a eulogy, since it talks too much about the wrong person. It's just a harsh lesson about taking things for granted. A warning to me to not pass up doing things with the people I care about.

I miss him. And God I wish I had done things differently. And God I hope I do things differently in the future.