Had to be functional today. Work happened, which meant commuting, and which meant waking up in time enough to prepare for that. (I leave my apartment at 6:10 a.m. to make it via bus to the current job, where my shift starts at 7:00. I can leave later if I drive, but I was not going to do that today.)
Did a slow-paced job today. Was that good or bad? Good for not being too strenuous or complicated, bad for giving me time to think about the loss a friend is going through? A co-worker who's rather protective of me asked me at lunch if I was OK. "I'm OK," I said; "a friend of mine got really bad news yesterday." That was the most specific that I got. There's always that risk of making it About Yourself, or of inflicting the news on people as opposed to sharing it; most people aren't ready to be told Oh, someone special is gone, how are you? At least it's a risk with me, so I'm glad I was careful.
Trying to lighten the mood. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't. I watched Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, which I'd borrowed a few days ago from the library, because heck, even Leverage might have been too heavy for me right now. Sort of funny, but not really as funny as I hoped it'd be.
And I'm still peripheral to what happened; I cannot begin to fathom or process what my friend and his loved ones are experiencing, so close to the tragedy. All I'll add is: you love people? Tell them. Show them.
There. That's a task we all can do. And should.