I know you are not supposed to say things like this, but I am really mad.  How on God’s green earth do good people like Clem Taylor die of cancer while absolutely horrible people recover? Or never get cancer?  Or never drop dead of a totally unexpected heart attack?  Or never get run over by a drunk driver? Who’s sick and twisted plan is it that a smart, decent, hard-working, loving and compassionate husband, father and friend should die before bitter and selfish people without a kind bone in their bodies or idiots with loaded guns? 

A million years ago, when I showered and put on mascara on a daily basis, a colleague of mine — a very good man — died suddenly and unexpectedly.  I was working at the time as an attorney in a law firm in Washington, DC., where goodness and kindness did not then, as they surely do not now, follow anyone all the days of their lives.  A friend of mine pointed out to me that the firm included many unpleasant people whose death one would certainly never actively wish for, but for whom, if they should happen to slip their earthly bonds, you would not mourn long.  So why, he wondered, did one of the good guys die first?

Clem Taylor was one of the good guys.  Our hearts break for his family — and for ourselves, whose world is less of a good place without him in it.