a quiet man dressed in black

I spent a weekend thinking about my friend James White, a handsome, intelligent but painfully shy programmer I worked with who killed himself four years ago. Thanks to the most wondrous writing I've read in a while, another friend, Rosemary Winters, helped me understand better why his death has been so hard to put away.

I don't mean to seem glib, but for some reason I also had these lyrics from DM rolling through my head:

"So why would you care
To get out of this place
You and me and all our friends
Such a happy human race."