There’s never a good time for terrible news.
I was alone in a hotel room when I found out my cousin Arthur Bruce died. My brother Art called to deliver the news and I didn’t know how to react. I was traveling for work and running late, and it felt like I was in shock; my body was on autopilot while my head was trying to figure out how to emotionally process the unexpected news. I wondered if I’d get to the office in time. I didn’t want to (and never did) tell anyone at work about it, because I don’t know what to do in these situations. I don’t know how to react to tragic, unexpected things. I don’t want people to see me sad, and I never want to burden anyone with my sadness.