Death of a Friend
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
-Harriet Beecher Stowe, Author
My husband and I went to a fund raising benefit, earlier today, for a friend of his that is dying of cancer. Donny wasn't there when we first got there, Donny being the friend who has cancer, everyone was milling around, chatting, and mingling. Spirits seemed to be pretty high, lot's of old friends getting a chance to catch up on old times.
Shortly after they began serving the food, Donny and his wife arrived, the whole hall fell quite. It was sad, and touching, and just plain awe inspiring to see him. Although my husband has seen him recently, I had not, and I was not expecting to see the frail slip of a man who passed through those doors. It scared me.
Death scares me. My palms sweat, my heart beats fast, an overwhelming urge to flee comes over me, I can't help it. I stayed with the kids at the table while Charlie went up and shook his hand, give him a hug, and shared what will probably be the last few words they get a chance to exchange.
When I was 20 I experienced 9 deaths over the course of a year and a half. I firmly believe this is where my irrational fear of death started, I've never gotten over the grief I experienced. One of the final deaths being that of my father-in-law. He was such a good man, always had a kind word for everyone, always took care of his family, always treated me well. We had spent so much time at my husbands parents house that I got to see first hand as this strong kind man suffered and died before my eyes.
Something, if given a choice, I never want to see again. I can't help it.
-Harriet Beecher Stowe, Author
My husband and I went to a fund raising benefit, earlier today, for a friend of his that is dying of cancer. Donny wasn't there when we first got there, Donny being the friend who has cancer, everyone was milling around, chatting, and mingling. Spirits seemed to be pretty high, lot's of old friends getting a chance to catch up on old times.
Shortly after they began serving the food, Donny and his wife arrived, the whole hall fell quite. It was sad, and touching, and just plain awe inspiring to see him. Although my husband has seen him recently, I had not, and I was not expecting to see the frail slip of a man who passed through those doors. It scared me.
Death scares me. My palms sweat, my heart beats fast, an overwhelming urge to flee comes over me, I can't help it. I stayed with the kids at the table while Charlie went up and shook his hand, give him a hug, and shared what will probably be the last few words they get a chance to exchange.
When I was 20 I experienced 9 deaths over the course of a year and a half. I firmly believe this is where my irrational fear of death started, I've never gotten over the grief I experienced. One of the final deaths being that of my father-in-law. He was such a good man, always had a kind word for everyone, always took care of his family, always treated me well. We had spent so much time at my husbands parents house that I got to see first hand as this strong kind man suffered and died before my eyes.
Something, if given a choice, I never want to see again. I can't help it.
@ 6:56 PM
3 Comments:
Sounds like it's the suffering part that scares you. To see someone you knew as vibrant, strong, and alive suddenly get ravaged by a deadly disease reminds us of our own mortality.
I'm sorry. Here is my shoulder... You can lean on us any time you need support.
phoenix, the suffering does scare me. I hate the fact that you just can't do anything to make it stop.
big mama, awwww.... thanks!!
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