I have known nothing else in life quite like being blindsided by death to gain perspective. Two hours prior I was fussing with numbers and trying to figure out why this new feature wasn’t getting traction. One message later the empty desk next to mine became a foreboding and dreadful void.

He died in a car crash, apparently a DUI accident late in the evening. A talented, energetic engineer. Just earlier that afternoon we were tossing ideas around and getting excited about a new project. His last messages to me were the outputs of a prototype he had built just during his train ride home. I didn’t see them until the morning. I responded, “that’s awesome dude,” not knowing he was already gone.

I now know what people mean when they say it’s a punch in the gut. After reading the local news article with his name in it, I headed out of the building, walked straight up Montgomery Street, and bawled. I was remembering everything about him. “Dude. Look at this.” “Dude, what the fuck.” “Yo.” That’s how we communicated, day in and day out in the last six months, cranking out new chunks of the product. That voice still rung clearly in my head, and I kept repeating it, desperately trying to hold on to it.

Since I moved to San Francisco, I’ve made a few good friends. He was one of whom I hoped to befriend for the long haul. We were already talking about where we might go after we eventually move on from this start-up. How killer it would be to move around as a designer-engineer duo. He was trying to set me up with his friends. “Guys or girls. I’m not judging,” he said. We had done an impromptu hackathon just to try new javascript frameworks three weeks ago, and had plans for another to replace the whole stack. We were trying to figure out when I’d go down to South Bay to play basketball and Starcraft again like we did in January.

My heart grinds like a poorly greased gearbox, rumbling in fits and halts. Six months was too short to get to know you. Too few exaggerated high fives. Too few games of Starcraft. Too few inspiration-fueled side projects. We were going to keep working on awesome shit! How is this possible? How are you gone?

I spent the weekend with friends, finding solace in their company. I called my family, sharing my pain and finding comfort in their sympathy. Funny how it is people you cling to when things go wrong. Work will always be there. People can be quite abruptly taken from your life.

I frankly do not know what to do. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go to work tomorrow. My work brain is missing so many pieces. But go to work I will. You’d probably want me to.