Goodbye Aussie's Rogue

Steve Irwin - the Crocodile Hunter - died today. It was a bizarre feeling - something I don't think I've felt since I heard that Princess Diana died.
It took me a while to work out what I was feeling, but I think it was uncertainty. There are some things in life that although they aren't certain, they feel certain.
I felt certain that Diana was bound for a life in the media spotlight. For so many years she had been the focus of gossip mags, appearing in scandals, it felt like there would be no end to it.
Similarly, Steve Irwin seemed indestructible. Whenever he was on TV, defying death and injury so easily, his aura of invincibility grew. It became expected that no matter how big the animal, no matter how dangerous the situation, he would come out unscathed.
So it was no doubt a surprise to hear he had died. Not injured. Not seriously wounded. Not teetering on the brink of death. He was gone. And it shook me up.
My certainty, that Steve Irwin - a young, strong, experienced man - would continue to live and entertain, was shattered.

Nothing is certain.