It finally happened.

Steve Irwin, filming one of his famous, dangerous wildlife shows, was killed by a stingray. The poisonous barb punctured his heart, and he was dead before paramedics could arrive. I suppose that this shouldn't surprise me as much as it does; he was known for tackling crocs, picking up deadly snakes, spiders, etc. Still, it crushes a piece of my childhood. The unkillable man. I always thought he would end up dying of something normal like cancer, heart disease, a car crash. That's usually what happens to amazing people. But he dying while doing what everyone said would kill him. I guess it's less that he was unkillable, but more that the world was right. It's dangerous, and no matter how good you are, no matter how careful, things happen. Something happened. I wonder what his wife feels. "I told him so?" No. Maybe she feels about the same as if he had died of cancer, or a heart disease. But he was doing what he loved to do. So in a way, it was an incurable disease. Because who wants to stop someone from fulfilling their dreams?