The manner of his death made me shudder. He made the 911 call, trapped in his house while it burned. I remembered finding myself on the floor of my room when I had my stroke, trying to drag myself to the phone, unable to lift my head off the floor or even crawl; gasping for breath and unable to get enough air no matter how hard I tried. I imagined it must have been much the same for Greg when he called 911. Except help did not arrive in time and he never did find enough air.
So I went to bed last night with a heavy heart, and didn't sleep well. Woke up ungodly early, and by 8:00 was sitting at my desk, doing paperwork. That's what I do when mortality makes its presence felt: I work. I've actually been consulting a little lately, and around 11:00 got a call that WAN installers had shown up at a client's office without bothering to schedule it with anyone first. Called a cab, got dressed, got to the client's within 20 minutes, and had everything organized in fairly short order. Spent the rest of the day at the client doing other things, then went to the datacenter and worked til almost 10:00 pm. So overall almost certainly the most productive day I've had since before my stroke.
I wish I'd known Greg well enough to cry for him. Instead, I'll retreat from the precipice into work. Greg was a geek; I think he'd understand.