It was very strange to be at work. To see his desk with his coat, but not him. To have his keys in my hand, but not have asked him for them. To go in the spaces he went. To do the things he would have done.
He wasn’t there. Nor would he ever be again.
The rest of my day was an overwhelming combination of anger and sorrow. Angry that he had been so selfish. Angry that he left us all here to deal with his mess. Sad that he just wasn’t there anymore. That he felt so broken and desperate that he had to take his own life.
It was too much for one day.