Now for something sad...

My St Patrick's Day parade pictures will follow because you'll need an antidote to this:

My friends...uh...Betty and Harry spent NYE in Switzerland, attending a friend's wedding.

I had dinner with Betty and Harry in January and they told me that it was their friend...uh...Jack's wedding.

JACK got married? In Switzerland? What the heck?

Jack is 50-ish, quiet, kinda curmudgeonly, sits in the corner and watches everyone else drink too much wine and then eventually busts out with something that makes everyone go OMGWTF BUT HAHAHA!

Jack had a high school sweetheart. She wanted to get married after high school but he said naaaaaawwwww so she went off and eventually married a man considerably older than her and had a life and a family with him.

And PS, he was a billionaire. With a B.

The billionaire died a few years ago.

Jack and the sweetheart reconnected sometime within the last year or two and got married in Switzerland over New Year's.

It's an an sweet story, made spectacular by the middle-class-guy-in-SF-marries-international-billionaire-widow aspect.

GOOD FOR JACK though. That's awesome. Enjoy it.

But then...

Jack just found out he has advanced pancreas and stomach cancer.

HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT?

Poor Jack. Poor Jack's sweetheart.

This is exactly the kind of thing I worry about in my own life. You'd think these tragic stories are one in a million though, right? And that I shouldn't spend time worrying about these horrible things happening, right?

Right.

Except that this isn't the only tragic love story I know.

I've been sad for Jack since Betty gave me the news. It's a tough one to shake.