Life is so surreal. 

A few short weeks ago, our office celebrated the retirement of a wonderful man who had worked for the company for 47 years.  This past Sunday, he had a heart attack.  Today, his family made the impossible decision to remove life support.  His brain had been deprived life giving oxygen for too long, their father, friend and husband was gone. 

How fleeting it all is.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good. - W. H. Auden

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