Ed and I weren't close, but we'd known each other all our lives, went to school together, and had airplane modeling as a shared interest. Ed had type 1 full-blown diabetes since he was 9. Over the years he's had two pancreas transplants, one kidney transplant, 7 strokes, one heart attack, neuropathy of the lower extremities, a broken leg that took a year to heal, and a toe amputated. He'd gotten frail and talked very slow and carefully. At this late stage in life, we'd talk every few months on the phone to catch up, or run into each other at a local model club meet. He'd tell me what horrifying medical issue he'd had since the last time, and I'd always be amazed that he was still alive. The guy was made of iron, it seemed. So after surviving 50-some years of complications from diabeetus, some fucking idiot ran him over in a Shop Rite parking lot and dragged him 12 feet. Then she ran him over again trying to back up off of him. That just ain't fair. He held on in the hospital for a whole month. But the body finally gave out.