I hate it when people I know die. Even people I really didn’t get along with. In my social circle in college was a woman named Bonita. I saw her at least several times a week for eight years or so. Though we never argued or clashed in any way, we never really got along. She had a habit of telling people completely made up stories about things she claimed I had done, and did this for years. I don’t know why, and I never confronted her. Her storied never did me any damage, and while I saw her often, there was no need to be more than sociably friendly. But when I just learned she drowned in an accident, I was sad just the same. I’m sorry, Bonita. Good bye.