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You are not promised a tomorrow nor guaranteed another minute.

All we truly have is this moment.  Last night one of my sisters best friends, Jolie lost her husband.  Mitch Lucker, father, husband and musician died in a motorcycle accident in Huntington Beach.  And just like that his daughter will now grow up without her father, Jolie lost her husband and the world lost a great musician.  All around us people are forgetting that life is a gift, a special small amount of time allotted to each of us to live, laugh and love.  It is much easier to fight and bicker than to make the tough choices in life, suck up your pride and always show the ones you love, just how much you need them.  There has never been a person to say that life is easy.  In fact, life is brutal.  Life will kick the shit out of you and then it will spit on you while you are down.  The thing about life though, is the amount of beauty and power always outweighs the bad.  The tragic passing of Mitch is another reminder to us all to truly understand just how short life can be.  If we forget for just one second or take it for granted, it could be too late.  Mitch was far too young and shined much too bright to be taken.  There are no words that can be spoken to calm Jolie's pain and when her daughter grows older, I only hope she holds the fondest and best memories of her father.  I met Mitch a few times and every time I saw him he was always so full of life.  Tattooed from neck to toe and limb to limb he had a voice like a chainsaw and a heart like a saint.  Mitch will not be forgotten anytime soon, and there is no doubt that generations will know his name for some time to come.  He died that romantic death that is all too familiar for musicians and all too hard for their families.  RIP x

      

Comments

  1. Ryan I knew Mitch from my music playing days. We has some great talks backstage. He was a great dude and will forever be missed. Stay strong with what you are going through. Know people like Mitch would look to YOU as motivation to never give up.

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