I was horrifed and shocked to get an email from a friend of long standing today. He was just diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer, esophagus, stomach and liver. He had an overlying condition for a few months, an antibiotic resistant bacteria, and then: wham.
He is a man of integrity and honour, a world lecturer and traveller and I always felt joyful and respected and understood in his company.
Sometimes we don't realise that such feelings are mutual. But I do. His last book had the most wonderful dedication to me. I was humbled by it.
We had many lunches and business interactions and book exchanges that evolved into a deep and abiding friendship. I had written a little poem about his mother way back in the day when he had said he didn't feel he could articulate how important her life was to him. He read it, much to my surprise, at her funeral.
He visited Newfoundland twice and he, a world traveller, fell so in love with the place that he took close to 10,000 pictures the first time he was here.
I am so saddened by this, I find it hard to articulate my grief.
This long death roll does wrap itself around my heart, so many dear ones gone, closer than family.
What I do when this shyte unfolds is to send little cards of remembrance in the mail, something to brighten the days of the beloved dying, to assure that yes, you are so very important to me, you are loved and remembered, you are one of the dear ones.
And I don't shirk from what they are facing.
