If Only

So I wrote my first obit this weekend. I didn't enjoy it.

The gentleman in question and I were hardly fast friends. To write about him, after he had been murdered, was hard. Every uncharitable thought that I'd ever had of him, kept cropping up, making me cringe.

I attended his funeral on Sunday morning and as gut-wrenching it was to see his mother cry and his wife look shell-shocked, I felt worst for myself - that I no longer had the opportunity to improve my acquaintance with him.

Mercedes Lackey was right. If only. Those must be the two saddest words in the world.