Ed
01/22/2026
Ed passed away today. Technically, it was yesterday, but this morning is when I heard the news.
The last thing we knew is that he was stabilized and rushed to the hospital. Naturally, we were all shocked this morning when our boss broke the news in the conference room.
I saw him leave the office building on a stretcher carried by four paramedics. There was a big cage-looking device over his chest, and his large belly kept moving up and down in a very unnatural manner. I had never seen a person in those conditions, kept alive by machines.
It changed the way I perceive death. I don't know how, exactly, but it made it more present. It's different when you attend a funeral and your relative or loved one lays peacefully after a long life at their final resting spot. When I saw him being carried out, I saw someone who was only partially alive, but there still was some life in there, fighting.
If anything, he didn't suffer so much. I was out grabbing food during lunchtime when it all happened, and I only saw one of my coworkers performing CPR at the scene when I came back to the office. Apparently, Ed started making loud 'snoring' noises and suddenly lost consciousness on his chair, then came my boss, then came my trained coworker, then came the paramedics. I rushed to the lobby with another co-worker to check if more medical staff were arriving in case they needed directions. We waited there for a few extensive minutes without news. Everyone else was removed from the 2nd floor so the paramedics could do their job.
Your mind goes elsewhere when you don't know what's going on. All I wished is that he would make it.
The word 'stabilized' rang within me for the rest of the day. That's all I needed to know to be aware that at least it wasn't the worst outcome.
Ed was my desk neighbor.
We'd say good morning some mornings, but 'good night' every night as he walked past me at exactly 5:45 PM before leaving work. We didn't talk too much, and most of it was work-related. He was a very nice guy, though. Mid 60s, a little shorter than me, from Belarus, with a heavy accent and a deep voice. Sometimes we would talk about the newest AI technology and he would show me his experiments with it - a very tech-savvy person for his age. I liked him, and I could tell he liked me too, and I wish I'd gotten to know him better. Work was clearly not his cup of tea, as his eyes would glimmer and he'd turn around on his chair every time we talked about something else.
When this happens, the absence is what you don't see, yet what is most noticeable. It's a small void that emerges in everyone's lives, only to shrink over time depending on how close you were to the person who is no longer with us.
I wish the best for his family the most.
Thank you, Ed, for the time I've known you was brief, the memories will live forever.