I can't believe I'm back writing a blog on the same day I wrote one, after not writing for a year or so. But, this afternoon, we found out that my wife Kathy's cousin Judy and her husband, lost their son, Chad, today to cancer. A particularly vicious form of cancer because it was one that offered hope that perhaps her son wouldn't die, and then, the shitty disease cancer is, it takes him anyway.
It's not like we are really close, but come on folks, she's family, and so was her son. We have been away from the family, for over 35 years, separated by distance. They live in Illinois and we live in Nevada. However, with the advent of social media we manage to keep in touch and we also got regular reports on Chad's condition. The last ones I read were positive, but then, that's what mothers do when they write about the fact their child has cancer. They write positively to others, keeping what little strength they can manage to muster and say the words to family that the mother knows people are so desperate to hear, and the words they keep telling themselves, over and over.
Judy's father, Manrow, is a favorite uncle of ours, and is still kicking at the age of 92. I'm not quite sure if they've told Uncle Manny about Chad yet, and if they do how he is going to take it. Grandparents make attachments to each of their grandchildren, all in different ways. I have six of those precious little people and just the thought of losing anyone of them sends me into spirals of depression and paroxysms of despair.
I am reminded of when I was in the third grade, kind of about the time most kids come into their own and are pretty sure at that point they are masters of their own destiny. And when the teacher would ask which of us would want to perform some particular task, I would always have my hand in the air, waving it back and forth saying, "Pick me, Pick me." without even knowing what the task was. I think a lot of us are like that. We liked being picked for things. Well, the reason I brought that up is this is one of those times, that given the opportunity and the chance to be chosen to go to where ever it is that you go when one dies, instead of someone you love unconditionally, that Uncles Manny's hand would be in the air waving, saying, "Take me, take me."
I know if it were one of my grandchildren, my hand would be in the air, waving back and forth, trying to get the attention of whomever is making the choice, and saying the same thing.
So, the next time you think about a person who you think is taken before their time, perhaps, just perhaps, they received some cosmic message and had the opportunity to put their hand in the air. For all we know, Chad may have made the same choice to save someone he loves, unconditionally, and that's something we need to think about. There's no setting some things right, but perhaps this is one of those things you have to accept on faith. I'd like to think Chad had the opportunity, and made the choice to say, "pick me", for someone he loves.
It's not like we are really close, but come on folks, she's family, and so was her son. We have been away from the family, for over 35 years, separated by distance. They live in Illinois and we live in Nevada. However, with the advent of social media we manage to keep in touch and we also got regular reports on Chad's condition. The last ones I read were positive, but then, that's what mothers do when they write about the fact their child has cancer. They write positively to others, keeping what little strength they can manage to muster and say the words to family that the mother knows people are so desperate to hear, and the words they keep telling themselves, over and over.
Judy's father, Manrow, is a favorite uncle of ours, and is still kicking at the age of 92. I'm not quite sure if they've told Uncle Manny about Chad yet, and if they do how he is going to take it. Grandparents make attachments to each of their grandchildren, all in different ways. I have six of those precious little people and just the thought of losing anyone of them sends me into spirals of depression and paroxysms of despair.
I am reminded of when I was in the third grade, kind of about the time most kids come into their own and are pretty sure at that point they are masters of their own destiny. And when the teacher would ask which of us would want to perform some particular task, I would always have my hand in the air, waving it back and forth saying, "Pick me, Pick me." without even knowing what the task was. I think a lot of us are like that. We liked being picked for things. Well, the reason I brought that up is this is one of those times, that given the opportunity and the chance to be chosen to go to where ever it is that you go when one dies, instead of someone you love unconditionally, that Uncles Manny's hand would be in the air waving, saying, "Take me, take me."
I know if it were one of my grandchildren, my hand would be in the air, waving back and forth, trying to get the attention of whomever is making the choice, and saying the same thing.
So, the next time you think about a person who you think is taken before their time, perhaps, just perhaps, they received some cosmic message and had the opportunity to put their hand in the air. For all we know, Chad may have made the same choice to save someone he loves, unconditionally, and that's something we need to think about. There's no setting some things right, but perhaps this is one of those things you have to accept on faith. I'd like to think Chad had the opportunity, and made the choice to say, "pick me", for someone he loves.
Well, I gotta disagree this time. If for no other reason Chad would have chosen life to save his parents the pain.
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