In this era of instant communication it took one hour and 16 minutes this afternoon from the time Heath Ledger was found dead by a housekeeper until his death was announced to the world by the Associated Press. The journalist in me approves but the mother in me finds it unspeakably sad that Ledger's family got so little time. One hour and 16 minutes is not long enough to be alone with your shock, your grief and your questions, or to hold tight the others in your circle who care for the man as a son, a friend, a father, not just as the actor, the talent.
In just two hours after his death, Ledger's obituary was ready with a list of his credits and his girlfriends but, of course, no cause of death or any reasonable explanation for why  a man with extraordinary ability to act on screen and a two-year-old daughter to brighten his life would wind up dead on a dreary Tuesday afternoon in January.
There are lots of questions to consider in the days ahead and an autopsy tomorrow might begin to answer them. I'm as curious as the rest of those who followed his life and his work. I thought he was brilliant in I'm Not There and looked forward to seeing his performance as the Joker in The Dark Knight. But tonight, I'm sorry  his family can't have him to themselves.