As I inch ever closer to my thirtieth birthday, more and more of my friends are getting married, having children, and moving forward in their blossoming careers. One of my best childhood friends, Alex Laster, was a prime example. He got married about four months ago, was achieving greatness as a lawyer in Miami, and would turn 30 himself in September.

Like the rest of us, he was undoubtedly enjoying the bliss of the honeymoon phase that takes you from your engagement to your first anniversary if you’re lucky. It’s a beautiful time when you dream together about the future – the places you’ll go, the children you’ll have – and interrupt every sentence with a lovely, sweet kiss. It’s a time to seize and treasure.

I hope Alex did just that. Alex passed away this week after he had a car accident on his way to work. Just four short months after getting married, his young bride is a widow, left with dreams that can never become reality. If we, his friends, still can’t believe what has happened, she must be in utter shock. I can’t even pretend to imagine the emotions surging inside her, the anger, the anguish, the suffering.

Having gone to first through fifth grade with me, Alex was an unforgettable part of my childhood. We picked up worms to scare our friend Sarah, traded snacks with our friend Jason, and did a videotaped commercial promoting our home state New Jersey that our elementary school teachers still remembered when we visited them at 18.

Alex moved to another town before we started the sixth grade, but we found each other again in college. We picked up where we left off. This time, we listened to each other go on and on about college crushes, studied statistics with our friend Geoff, and pondered our future with some other friends on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. (We attended George Washington University in Washington, D.C.)

We lost touch a couple years ago as so many do as they get into the grind of daily life, but we heard about each other through mutual friends – and the memories we had of those character-building journeys that are elementary school and college could never be wiped away.

Now that Alex is gone, my thoughts are with his wife, a woman I don’t even know but whose suffering has touched me in a profound way. As I say good night to my soon-to-be husband, I think about how she can no longer do that. Alex was a stand-up guy, ultra responsible, an overachiever, a typical type-A personality with a bright future ahead of him. I am sure he would have made a great husband, but he didn’t even have the chance. And his wife didn’t have the chance to see his full potential. None of us did.

A part of her must have gone with him this week. The overwhelming sympathy I feel for this woman I don’t know is exhausting me. My only comfort is the thought that she is able to focus on the good times, their wedding, their love. I wish for her to have the ability to hold those memories close now and forever. If any good can come of this, you all have to read this story as a lesson to love to the fullest each and every day.