His wife called 911 and generally freaked out. Shortly thereafter, he comes too, making a joke over the whole thing. She helps him to the bed, and is still on the phone with the dispatcher when he goes into a convulsion. His muscles were so stiff, she couldn't have moved him if she tried.

He comes to again, and is disoriented and confused. By then the ambulance has arrived, and his mom rides with him while his wife follows in the car.

They get to the hospital, and he's rushed in to the emergency room. His wife and mom wait, unable to even speak to one another. There's a "code blue" called, and his wife asks a nurse if she knows what's going on with her husband. The nurse says they're all working on him right then, and she'll let them know once she knows anything.

About 10 minutes later, his wife and mother are taken in to a quiet room and told that they did all they could for him, but he didn't make it.

They think it was a pulmonary embolism, but they won't know for sure until his autopsy. His organs and tissue donations will be able to help about 75 different people. He's going to be cremated and his ashes will be laid to rest with those of his father. His memorial will be out here, in his home town of San Diego, instead of where he's been living.

My sister, her mother-in-law, and the remains of her husband will be flying home soon. Having just spoken with him on Thanksgiving, it's a shock. I cried when I spoke to my baby sister about it, and I'm crying now, but honestly, I'm still so stunned, I don't even know what to think.

Listening to: All I Want for Christmas (is a real good tan) - Kenny Chesney
Reading: Think Geek catalog
Working on: Stocking Stuffers