We've just returned from saying goodbye to Rob, our sister-in-law's son, Chrissie's brother, Matt's brother-in-law, Francie's husband and father to Chelsea and Luke. A kind, honest and quiet man, we lost him a week ago at age 57. Cheryl and I have never had to deal with losing a younger family member. It hurts so much. We were in Brockville this week to be with the family and the steady rain we experienced Wednesday when we laid him to rest seemed fitting with our grief. And today, I had to slam on my brakes to avoid a crash, thanks to some idiotic chowderhead who decided to ignore a stop sign and made a left hand turn in my path. All of which has left me in a major funk. This time of year, I should be getting pumped up for the upcoming hockey season. I'm not. Right now, I don't care if I ever call another hockey game in my life. If I hadn't promised to do one last season, I'd be backing out but a promise is a promise. I've battled mental health to a draw for decades and right now, it's a major battle. Hello darkness, my old friend.