I have known Greg for more than 20 years. We have filks songs we wrote together long ago. While I had lost touch over the years outside of Facebook, this is still a shock. We recite every High Holiday that: "A man's origin is from dust and his destiny is back to dust, at risk of his life he earns his bread; he is likened to a broken shard, withering grass, a fading flower, a passing shade, a dissipating cloud, a blowing wind, flying dust, and a fleeting dream." Yet still it is a shock when the moment comes.
Rest in peace, my friend.