It’s quite a bit muchish
September 16, 2009
Six hours after hearing the news, I’m still unable to breathe normally or stop the tears. There’s no emotional distance to be had, not tonight, nor any of the composure I’ll need when I make the call in the morning. Or in a few hours. It’s already morning.
A very good friend’s father lies in the hospital tonight. Today. He won’t be coming home. Two of his children are already by his side, the third makes haste to arrange matters by tomorrow. A great heartache is in the offing, a great man is dying of end stage liver cancer.
Mr. S was one of the few adults left in my life who remained the pinnacle of a respected elder. He humbly set an example without ever breaking stride, without disappointing me by descending into pettiness like so many adults I’ve grown up among have done. He made smart, solid decisions, provided for his family and I really kind of wanted to be just like him when I grew up. He was, in many ways, like my beloved grandma.
I keep hearing myself say “but we still have so much to learn from him!” and “it’s just not fair!”
And it’s not.
I write in broken hope that it might ease the realization into my heart so that I can be there for the family in some small way this week. It has to, my throat keeps closing with grief when I remember why I’m going call them and see them.