I lost a friend. Somewhere along in the bitterness. But I would have stayed up with you all night, had I known how to save a life.

I need to start this entry out with a disclaimer.

One thing that is a pet peeve of mine is when someone dies and people who only marginally and exponentially knew the person act like they've just lost someone very close to them. It's like they feel that they'll get some kind of attention if they were really close with the person. I'm not trying to do that. I'm cataloging things as they happened this evening, no exaggeration, no pretending like I am something I'm not.

Another thing I should disclaimer here is that this is not a happy entry. It's beyond even some of my more emo entries, but I need to write this out, and I know that not many people read this anyway, so it's not like I'm broadcasting to a wide range of people.

One of our sports writers, Randy, died tonight.

I should start from the beginning, because there's a lot of details to the story that won't make sense unless they're implicitly stated. I'm also making my way through a bottle of wine right now, so I'm hoping I remain understandable. (And yes, for those keeping score at home, I am keeping track of my blood sugar and adjusting my insulin accordingly.)

I left work this evening (last night? I don't even know what time it is at this point.) later, because I was talking to Dennis and NewJeff about. . .nothing important. We were just chatting, but then I had to leave and get going, because I was intending to go to the PHS game, as I'd previously mentioned. They won, something like 50- or 60- something to 0. Also kind of not the point.

I saw my ex at the game, so we chatted some. We talked about Desperate Housewives. I had to park far away in Murderville, U.S.A., because I didn't know that press could park right up behind the stadium. He was parked considerably closer than I was, so he offered to drive me to my car, since it was chilly and raining.

After the game, we hung around a little, he talked to people he knew, he bought me a hot dog, I said hi to Chuck (the sports writer), and I was freezing, so we got in the car and he cranked up the heat. We sat for a few minutes, chatting, while we waited for the mob to subside.

At one point in the conversation, I got this really, really unsettling case of deja vu. It happens sometimes, that I dream things and they happen, but this time, it felt like something really bad was going to happen. However, usually when I get that feeling, it's nothing, so I let it go. I did mention to my ex that I felt the weird deja vu, and he said that he'd felt the same thing twice since we'd been sitting in the car.

So finally, we're able to get out, and he drives me up to where my car is. We're sitting there, having a quasi-serious conversation, and we hear sirens. It doesn't seem so odd, except that they end up driving right past where we were sitting. He said he got a bad feeling about someone he knew that had been at the game, so he started up the car and followed the ambulance and the fire truck that had sped by.

We followed them back past the school and down this long, dark road that led to the high school (I think that's where we were. It was dark and hard to tell. I was discombobulated and wasn't sure where we were. I also was having a panicky version of deja vu and was trying to not go hysterical, so I don't even really remember much of that ride.)

We pulled up to the school, whichever school it was, and there are people gathered around and several emergency vehicles. My. . .I'm going to start calling him MK, ok? My Kiwi. It's easier than "my ex," and I'm feeling particularly. . .whatever tonight. This morning. Whatever. So MK.

MK hops out of the car and goes over to where the crowd is. I stay in the car, for one, because he left it running, and I took that as a hint I should stay in the car. For another. . .I didn't want to know, you know? If something gruesome had happened, I didn't think I could handle it. Also. . .I'd dreamed this. In the dream, I didn't know what was going on, but it was the same scenario, and that terrified me, because even though I didn't remember what had happened in the dream, I knew it was bad.

I sat in the car. . .maybe 20 minutes? Half an hour? It felt like forever. MK finally comes back and tells me that Randy's had a heart attack. He'd had it, apparently, while driving, and had hit this little guard building at the school. MK and Randy had been friends forever. They'd known each other forever. MK started driving again.

As he jetted down the road, MK told me he was going to go to the local hospital, because that's where they were taking Randy. At this point, I didn't know if that meant he was going right then and I'd have to find some way to get my car later, or if he was going to take me by my car first. I didn't really care.

As it turned out, he was taking me to my car first. He said, "I'm going to make sure you can start your car and then I'm going to get to the hospital as fast as I can." I couldn't do anything except nod. He stopped, and I scrambled to get out of the car. I actually banged my hip on the car as I got out, and it went numb for a second, and I was thinking, oh, man, I'm not going to be able to drive. Obviously, it turned out OK. I have a bruise, but not a problem at all. He told me that he would wait until I started my car, to make sure I could get it started, and I wanted to say, "No, just go. Get to the hospital," but I didn't want an argument and I knew he'd wait anyway. He told me to be careful and I said, "No. YOU be careful," and I got into my car as fast as I could, started it, and waved him on. He screeched away.

I made a split-second decision to follow him and go to the hospital as well.

Now, I did know Randy. We weren't friends and I'd only spoken to him a couple dozen times, but he was always nice to me when he came into the office, he always said hi to me, and Chuck seemed to like him. I'm sure if I'd known him better as a person, rather than just someone who came in occasionally, I would have liked him. I liked what I knew of him.

But that's not why I went to the hospital.

I went to the hospital because I had a feeling it wasn't going to be good, and I wanted to be there for MK. I know he would do the same for me. He would. I had to be there.

So I break more than a few traffic laws trying to keep up with MK, because I didn't know exactly where to go to get to the emergency room at the hospital. As it turned out, I could have easily figured it out, but I didn't know that at the time. I never went over 65 mph, and I didn't technically run any red lights. What I ended up doing was making a right on red and then another right onto the road I'd initially been on. See? Even in the face of emergency and mild panic, I still follow most of the laws.

But I made it, not too terribly long after MK got there (I got turned around in the parking lot behind the hospital) and when I walked up to where MK was, crouching against the wall outside the hospital, he told me, basically, that it didn't look good.

I don't know how long we were there before it was made known that Randy didn't make it. After the guy came out and said that, MK walked away. I figured he wanted to be alone, so I waited until he came back.

After waiting a little while longer, there was nothing else to be done. Family was coming, there were several other people there. . .there was nothing I could have done. MK told me he was going to leave, and I told him I'd walk down to his car with him. I did all I could possibly do -- I hugged him. I held on as long as he wanted me to, and told him to be careful on his way home. He said he'd call me tomorrow (today?) I don't expect him to remember that. I'll probably call him, though, to make sure he's OK. What I wanted to say was, "MK, I love you," but I knew that it wouldn't come out the way I wanted it to, and I didn't want to. . .do whatever that would have done. So I just kept my mouth shut and left.

I got to my house, but drove past it, because I didn't want to go in. Then Ashley called me. And I lost it.

I'm usually pretty good about not being overly emotional when it actually counts. I can hold it together to give other people support when they need it, but afterward, I lose it. And lost it I did.

I told her what happened, and cried and cried. The stress, the incredible emotion I knew MK was feeling, everything. . .I told her I wasn't trying to be one of those people that acted all uppity when someone they barely knew died, but it was. . .it was MK. I went to that hospital to be there for him if he needed me, and it hurt so much to see him like that. I wanted to make everything go away, to make it all better for him, but I couldn't. There's nothing I could or can do, and that just completely tore me up from the inside.

Kiwi, I don't know if you ever frequent my little corner of the Internet, if you used to and then didn't because I stopped writing or if you ever did, but I want you to know that I love you. I don't care if I'm not supposed to, or if I'm not supposed to say it or whatever. Maybe you don't love me the way I love you, but I know you at least care about me, and I want you to know that I'd do anything for you. Absolutely anything. I love you in a way that, really and truly, I've never loved anyone in my life. I'd tell you that straight up, but I don't think you'd. . .appreciate hearing it. But if I can do anything for you, I would. After everything that happened tonight, I know how precious life is. You even said that to me when I got to the hospital. "Sarah," you said, "you just never know. Life's so short."

And it is. And I'm sorry you had to go through this. So, incredibly sorry. I'm here if you need me. I want you to know that.

And I've finished my bottle of wine now and I'm going to go to bed. So goodnight, everyone. Goodnight, and I'd encourage you to tell the people you love that you love them. Because you don't ever know. I'm going to call my parents tomorrow and make sure everything's OK back home, and maybe one day, I'll actually tell MK what I'm feeling.

But probably not.