Death And Hot Chocolates

The Sydney trip went well as Jug and I spent a few relaxing days catching up with friends, exploring the city and doing what comes naturally while on holidays: eating, drinking and pretty much bugger-all.

It was a pleasant experience that almost became a distant memory as soon as I got in to work the following day. Aside from the usual pile of crap that I was expecting to be waiting at my desk, I also had to deal with the sad and shocking news that one of our client had recently passed away. It threw me for a loop.

Leah had only recently joined the Club but soon became friends with almost everyone she met including me. She had one of those infectious bubbly personality which you couldn't help but be gravitated to. One of the things that I would remember about her is her fondness for hot chocolates after our training sessions. And she only ever asked me to make it for her. My hot chocolates do kinda rock.

The weirdest thing that keep playing through my head when I learnt that she'd died – aside from not fully believing it despite confirmation from her family – is the conversation we had before I left for the weekend. Leah asked if I was sticking around after the session for our usual post-workout drinks but being short for time and wanting to get some last-minute clothes shopping done, I made some lame excuse and basically lied to her about why I had to leave early. It's such a small thing but still, I can't stop but feel guilty about it.

Death seems to be something that has been prominent in my life of late. An old friend of mine lost his brother from a tragic accident just last month and over the weekend, I learnt that one of the participants died during the City To Surf marathon, the very one that I'd only recently been watching. Now, to know that my client and friend Leah will no longer be asking for my hot chocolates... Well, I find it just strange. Real strange.