I was going to write about my new job, the phone my boss gave me (err, I mean my team mate/leaderperson or something — he’s very into teams) and the desk I finally got to set up. But my old boss from the old job back in Whorelando e-mailed me this morning. One of my favorite people died of cancer. Someone from the job e-mailed me this summer, and the news came as a surprise, but I thought “Hey, it’s W. He’ll make it, if only to pester the rest of the department another day.” Without sending a “get well soon card” or thinking more about it, my life went on.

And today I got the news. So, I will tell you why I thought he was an amazing person. He did things his own way and had a smile that liked to eat his face. His laugh was breathy, without being creepy, and the always had gum at the right time. We called each other names, playfully. I think I got mad at him once for taking pens off my desk. After that, he brought me candy or a kind word every time he passed my cube. For some reason, he was convinced that hiding his computer at my desk kept it safe. He was never afraid of me, of my rages and my illness. Nope, he’d say good morning, whether I wanted to hear it or not.

Mr. Long chewed on happiness, like he gnawed on straws. For months, I kept a post-it on my desk from him. It was just a smiley face and said “hi”, but at some point in the day, he stopped to write that down. I’ll admit to butting heads with a lot of people at that place. But Mr. Long never blinked, so I knew if I needed a laugh, or a smile, or just a moment, I could go to his desk and peer down at his paperwork, and find some reason to smile. He had awful handwriting. But man, he could fill up a room with something bright.

So, goodnight Mr. Long. This world is an emptier place without you.