On Tuesday, in the early hours of the morning, staff writer Tim Cantu passed away.
He was 32 years old.
There’s so much anger barreling through, splintering out into breathtaking shards of pain. Anger that our universe has lost one of the best men imaginable, that his five children have to spend the rest of their lives without him, that he - the most optimistic of us all - won’t be there to celebrate with us when the Seattle Mariners win the World Series.
Of all the way that Tim was exceptional, the thing I admired most was the way he seemed to balance his life.