Yesterday, I got some sobering news. A colleague I mentioned in the original "Reflections on Mortality" post 18 months ago, passed away. The end-stage brain cancer he had been successfully battling crept up again a couple of weeks ago. Friday, he lay down to take a nap and never woke up. He was 36, the father of three.
In the ensuing 18 months since he was diagnosed with a brian tumor, he and I have had many more opportunities to work together. I had suspected the worst recently, as he began to forget things, began to miss more and more days of work, but I continued to believe he'd somehow pull off a miracle this time as well. It seems cancer, miracles and death are on everyone's minds lately, with the announcements Elizabeth Edwards and Tony Snow filling the airwaves.
Death is a very sobering thought. As I re-read my original post, I realized there was only one thing on the list I had accomplished - Baby is on the way. Yet, rather than make me feel better, it just makes the thought of my own mortality that much more horrifying. Already I have someone who is completely dependent on me - what I eat, how well I can breathe (a big deal at the moment, since I have bronchitis), what I do, everything. It will be years before the physical dependency is relinquished, longer still until the emotional bond is such that one feels like they can navigate the perils of life without having the parents on speed dial.
I paused to mourn the loss of my colleague - to celebrate his release from the horrible disease that had so dramatically altered his life, and to mourn the loss for his family. May they always have the good memories and a strong understanding of the kind of person their husband and father was.
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