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November 21, 2007 at 6:50 AM

I am more than guilty of getting self-obsessed and bogged down with schedules and trying to get things done and like most people, I often forget how precious time is and how much difference only a few minutes can make. This weekend I was painfully reminded of just how fragile and how in an instant life can send you a curve ball that may not be able to be negotiated for a save.

On Saturday morning I received a message. A good friend from highschool had passed away during a hockey game he was playing in Vienna. Michael Schubert was 19 years old and loved hockey. He lived and breathed hockey but he always had time to stop and talk to anyone who cared to listen in the hallways before class. He was always cracking jokes and trying to lighten the mood. He'll be missed by hundreds.
Rest in peace my friend. I imagine you're still playing hockey with God now.

Sorry about your loss. Hang in there.
I'm really sorry-- you must feel so shocked and upset. It's just so terrible when a young person dies.
I'm very sorry for your loss. Al.
Dear Kelsey,
Sometimes life, and death, make no sense at all. An idea that crosses my mind is to write out your fondest memory of him and send it to his parents...
Laurie
I'm so sorry that your friend died so young. I agree with Laurie's suggestion that you write to his parents about your interactions with him. When my father died, my mother got a letter like that from someone I remembered as a neighborhood kid. I found out that he had spent a lot of time with my father, talking, learning to play chess, learning science, and just having fun. My father gave him a book on learning to play chess, and he has used it with his own son. I learned so much about my father that I hadn't known, and I saw some of the good in my father that he had not shared with me. I stayed up and cried over that letter all night. I felt as if I'd spent the night with my father's ghost. The letter helped my healing tremendously.
Thanks for all your wonderful thoughts, everyone.