Do you ever think back to your childhood, and remember what it was like to have no worries whatsoever? I do. I mean just the thought of having summers off is enough for me to become giddy like a school girl.

Don't get me wrong, I love my life. Sure, there are things I would like to change, and some of those I'm working on right now, but I don't believe for one second there is anyone out there that wouldn't.

Growing up means responsibilities. Paying bills. Cleaning your own house and doing your own laundry. Growing up means taking others thoughts and feelings into consideration. When you have children, your life no longer revolves around what you want to do. It belongs to your child.

Growing up means watching your friends die, one by one. It's just one more reminder that we are no longer immortal. And that sucks.

I've put off writing this post. I fully intended on going to the funeral, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It wasn't supposed to happen. It was too damn early. I couldn't face all of the other friends who loved him, and knew him much better than me.

I won't go into detail, eulogizing him as so many have eloquently done. I don't handle sharing my grief well. It's enough that I'm able to tell you about it.

RIP Rob. God bless.