A guy I knew from fantasy camp died last year, out of the blue. He was 46, in apparent good health, he played baseball months before. Nobody knew what he died of, and his wife wasn't saying. We went to the memorial service and the place was mobbed, like 500 people there, not just baseball players. A lot of folks spoke kindly of him, obviously, but they all had the same basic story, he was the kind of guy who made everyone around him happier.
I've tried to learn something from that, though I'm naturally taciturn. But this year at camp I made an effort to welcome the "rooks" and have more fun.