Last June, one of my best friends, a 1956 graduate of FSU and a huge Seminole fan, passed away in Melbourne, Fl. I went down there to help with the funeral.
Just months before, in January, I had been down there discussing with him FSU's great '23 season and his disappointment at their exclusion from the playoff. He was disappointed but not incensed, as he had final preparations on his mind.
He was in his late eighties and finally succumbed to pancreatic cancer, having survived four years after surgery, a lot with that disease. He got all the life he had coming to him.
I wonder about my occasional thought that he was blessed in not living to see this horrible season. I know that's perverse, and it embarrasses me to admit having those thoughts, but they run through my mind occasionally.
I do miss my friend, though.