As many of you heard by now, sources have confirmed Patrick Wayne Swayze’s death a few minutes ago, to the shock and chagrin to many of the people who follow my writings in various information sources. While I find myself semi-numb to the idea that famous people have died left and right, I grow rather irritated with the idea that Patrick Swayze died. It’s not because it feels like some of my childhood’s prominent idols started to die this past year, or because I had a certain affinity for Ghost, Dirty Dancing, or his random appearances of Saturday Night Live. What irks me the most is that people already called him a dead man walking and he almost seems like he beat the cancer. Even at 120 lbs. dripping, the life sucked from his skin, and the roles dwindling to shows like The Beast, he still had that signature smile and demeanor that said, “I don’t plan on dying.”

But he did. For some, it won’t matter anyways since to them he was dead already. He fought to prove them wrong. G-d bless; may he find a partner to dance with to a sand castle in the sky …

Jose, who just wonders why …