Reflections

I was in a strange mood on Sunday evening, so I wound up lying on the couch with the TV on and dozing. Finally, after "Wait Till Your Father Gets Home" (funky classic cartoon) ended on Boomerang, I got up and spent the next five hours in front of my computer, completing offers on one of those marketing websites so that I could qualify for a free Mac laptop. (Stay tuned for news on that.)

Sometime in the wee hours, I received an email message from my friend Susan. She let my friends and I know that our dear friend Jeff passed away on Sunday night. Jeff was just my age.

Jeff succumbed to a short but valiant fight with an opportunistic infection that attacks the brain known as PML. It sounds absolutely awful, and I can just imagine how scared Jeff felt knowing that he was losing control of his body and slipping away from us. When I learned about Jeff's condition, things were already dire, and he had suffered irreparable brain damage. He had lost motor function and was heavily sedated to keep him as comfortable as possible. That news was extremely upsetting, but my friends and I sent lots of prayers and good vibes his way. Just as I was, they were all probably preparing themselves for the inevitable in the process.

When the news came, I was sad, but felt a bit of relief for Jeff. I suppose we can now move on from the worry to the celebration of his life. I hope that I'll be able to travel to New York to do so with his friends and family.

You know the saying that goes something like "the way you celebrate New Year's sets the tone for the rest of the year"? Well, I spent New Year's Eve with my family getting ready to lose my aunt to an ugly, aggressive cancer; I spent New Year's day saying good-bye to her. My aunt Rosemary died on January 3. I felt horrible that she had to spend her last hours on Earth suffering through so much pain, and take her final breath from a strange hospital room.

I felt the same way about Jeff. I suppose I romanticize the ideal death -- passing after a lifetime of amazing experiences in a deep and peaceful sleep, surrounded by the people who love you. It just seems so heartbreaking to have to die in a strange and scary way in a strange and scary place.

However, I do believe that we've all signed up for our destinies, so I suppose that both my Aunt Rosemary and my friend Jeff knew what they were in for, and were well equipped to handle it.

I hope that in the end they were happy with their places in life and had no regrets. I hope they slipped away knowing that they were loved and will never be forgotten.