Standing in the workroom, just about to launch into the pile of tasks on my desk, I overheard the phrase, "He was 28." Heath Ledger has died.
This hits me right in the gut. I've seen most of the films he's been in, and he's one of the lucky ones from my teen years to have successfully transitioned from Teenie Bopper Goodness to movies that inspire me to put a poster on my wall all the way to Indie Quirkiness.
Not everyone knows who he is, but I've seen just about everything he's done and have had a pleasant crush on him since 1999. He was soft-spoken and had one of those half-smiles that could kill from across the room (or across the movie screen).
He was the first celebrity crush I had that made sense. He was good looking (but not too good looking) and had cache as a credible actor. He was a celebrity crush I could carry through the years.
And now, at the age of 28, Heath Ledger, perhaps the James Dean of our Generation (seen too little, gone too soon), has passed away.
Heath, wherever you are, and as cheesy as this may sound, I mourn your passing and hope that you have gone to a better place.