I am also at a loss for words to describe the sadness about Carlin leaving the room. One thing we know for sure, he won't be looking down from the other side, smiling at all the tributes with an invisible man.

I always loved him, like so many of us who are grateful for his own bravery, making our writing better. But as a personal experience, when my brother was dying, I tried to hold on to his life by bringing him things that would make him laugh. I brought lots of my new favorites like Lewis Black, and even silly movies I loved like Little Miss Sunshine for the performance of Alan Arkin, whose character was close to his own. (He hated it, by the way, too sentimental to even enjoy Arkin.) As my brother was getting skinner and skinner and obviously closer to death, the trips to Los Angeles every other day became harder to take; I was almost hoping the tears would make me have an accident so I could die before he did.

He was my big brother who taught me to write by typing his own scripts, and encouraged me to get out of the medical assistant dream and try comedy on my own. On my last trip, I stopped to buy Life Is Worth Losing. It was the only CD I was tempted to open before I got to his house. I hadn't listened to a comedy CD in years, but this one I couldn't resist. If nothing else, the title alone would make my brother laugh. It was the first time I was able to make it up there laughing. It reminded me of how relevant he was then, and always. I loved that it was never about his family, or his kids, or most anything like airplane food.

Even the best of them, including Pryor, had those moments toward the end of his life, and yet you couldn't blame him because he gave his life to comedy, but Carlin never got to that point. Who even knew about his family--I didnt--but I remember the invisible man in the sky. There is nothing I can say that hasn't been said about him, except my own appreciation of him making me laugh right up to the end. One of the classiest moves I ever saw, was when someone screwed up (maybe Don Imus or a political figure that was an obvious perfect target for Carlin and probably was booked for that reason), but instead of giving the person even the dignity of bearing the brunt of his genius hammer, Carlin ignored him. At first, I was disappointed, then I felt proud of him.
I heard him say to Stephen Colbert that he didn't even like being funny or cute about these monsters who have ridden our world's downfall like Slim Pickens on the tip of the rocket in Dr. Strangelove. What is there left to say? It is over.

I saw him in a rerun of an interview with Keith Obermann where he said something about not wanting to be a cutesy guy, even though he loved Stephen Colbert and the Report, because of the gang we were dealing with now--the sickness was beyond humor. He just wanted to smash them. No humor, just smash them. I have been privileged to work with some of the greatest comics in life, but I always respected Carlin the most, if only for how productive he was, and always great.

Carlin's material will always be relevant because the world will be over before he is. He long ago predicted that America was over, distracted by the toys we cant give up, like his cell phones that made pancakes. We all loved him. What else is there to be said, but one thing we know for sure, he isn't on the other side, smiling with the invisible man. If you are dying or watching others die, I recommend Carlin's Life is Worth Losing for a little perspective.

Related: George Carlin: Crossing the Line