A family friend died this past weekend. I learned about it on Wednesday morning. Then I went out and bought cat food. It’s an oddity of death; for those of us left behind, life goes on.
It seems like it shouldn’t. It seems like the world should pause, acknowledge the passing of the now dead, stay silent for a beat so the grief of those left behind can fill the space.
He was a lovely man.
He’d had a hard last two years. Kidney failure, a side-effect of his diabetes. Too old for a transplant and no family matches, he did his best with the dialysis that took such a toll. Yet he remained kind and gentle, optimistic and hopeful.
They had just retired, he and his wife, before he got sick. They had plans to travel, to enjoy their third act together – or second, since they found each other later in life. Life, however, had other plans.
I didn’t see him that often but I will miss him. I miss them all, the people who’ve gone before me and left holes in my soul.
We don’t remember enough that we are mortal. We are here for an unknown amount of time and never know when the last moments are coming. I don’t know whether he thought about these things or not – I suspect he must have thought about death some of the time; the reality of his life demanded it.
I hope he made it a friend.I hope he wasn’t afraid. I hope he was at peace and at ease and that there was no pain. I hope he knew that he was a bright light, a good husband, father, and friend. I hope he knew that he will be sorely missed.