About 11 years ago, one of the client managers at the investment firm where CB and I use to work went to the gym in Building 3, changed his clothes in the locker room, and headed outside for a run through the nearby neighborhoods on his lunch break. Two hours later when he was late for an important meeting, people started looking for him. The staff at the gym did not recall seeing him return. Turns out, he was the DOA John Doe brought to the local hospital 90 minutes prior. He dropped over of a heart attack in one of the neighborhoods shortly after he left the building. Local lady saw him go down, called 911, but he was gone. Since that point, anyone who walks or runs outside and uses the gym locker room to change has to sign in and out and must carry at least their work ID (they need it to get back into the building anyway).
I was pretty ripped up about it - a) because he was one of the fittest guys I knew* and b) because we'd just started a quasi-mentoring relationship as I was interested in transitioning to client management. I'd met him in a training class a few months prior and - long story short - we had to forfeit our shoes in the class (it was a leadership style class) and we bonded over that moment. When I went to the viewing and spoke to his wife, I mentioned how I'd "lost my shoes" with her husband. She laughed and said, "He told me about that and how much fun he had that day in that class." Apparently, he didn't really want to go, but he told her that sitting next to me in the class made him glad he did. The minute I was out the door of the funeral home, I lost it.
Here at PSU, about 4-5 years ago we lost one of our trades supervisors to a brain tumor. When I started 10 years ago, he'd had surgery to have a tumor removed and been through treatment and was on the mend. Things were looking good! Until one scan when they didn't. It was incredibly difficult to watch a guy not more than 10 years older than me fade so quickly. And he was a genuinely nice guy - respected by his crew and peers, thorough in his work, friendly, kind. It was a terrible loss for our facilities family. Every now and then I'll run a historical budget report and his name will pop up and I think, "He was one of the good ones."
Here's to Jim and Brian.
*yes, I know fit people die, too