No one says it. We have a beautiful, new RedState.com -- 3.0, we call it -- but good morning, Tony Snow has died. Fifty-three.
Cancer. That's what no one will say. It's a dirty word.
He was in the process of living a grand life and his reality changed, and now he is no more, here on Earth, than remains and memories. He was yanked from this world of a sudden, just as suddenly as was Tim Russert, and there's really no need for any of us to struggle with words.
I don't get God's plan. I don't have the mind for it, so trying to rationalize it in temporal human terms is impossible.
Cancer, cancer, cancer.
I'm at a loss. Stay free, Tony.