I am shocked and saddened over the news of Tim Russert's death. I have a Sunday morning ritual -- I wake up at 9 (Mike gets up with Julia), make coffee, sort through the newspaper ads and devour Meet the Press. I'm not sure what I'll do now.
But mostly, I am reminded once again of how fragile and precious life is. Our neighbor's 22-year-old son was killed in a car accident last week. I didn't know him very well other than his music was so loud the pictures on my wall shook (which is not good when you want a baby to nap) but it has really affected me. I have no idea what will happen with Mike. It could be this cancer. It could be something else. Russert went to work like any normal day and collapsed at his desk.
So I'm going to hug a little tighter, stare a little longer and maybe not gripe so much when he leaves his socks on the floor.