Life, death, and those left behind

Jesus...it's been almost two weeks since my friend Kurt Fischer died. 27 years old is too young to be taken so soon. One moment you're playing softball and in the next you've slipped away. It's too random. I guess it's easy to be angry. It's easy to shake your fist at the sky and ask "where was God for Kurt that day?" Then I remember...with any luck, He was with him on that field. He must have needed Kurt more than we did. Still, it hurts. With all the bad shit going on in the world and the millions of assholes, rapists, murderers, child molesters, etc walking freely I can't help but be angry that they remain and my friend is gone. I also can't help but question my own existence. What would happen tomorrow if, God forbid, I die? Have I done all that I want to do? Certainly not...not at this point in my life. We're too temporary to take life for granted. My patience for greedy and self-centered people in quickly waning. I've gotten to the point where I just want to shake them and scream "stop wasting your time being petty! It's not about you!" That's another story.
So Kurt is gone. His wife Katie and his twin brother Eric (and their respective families and friends) now must pick up the pieces and move on. My keystrokes to God's inbox.
Kurt Patrick Fischer...a truly kind, loving, considerate, and overall extraordinary human being. I miss you, brother.