A man named Tony died last night.
We knew each other through a retreat program when my husband and I were in grad school. He was younger than we were and ran with a different circle of friends, but we were all part of the same big group. I was Facebook friends with him and his wife. He didn't say much on Facebook until September, when he was diagnosed with metastatic cancer.
He was relentlessly upbeat, as were the posts from friends on his Facebook wall. He was planning to beat it, and that was that. Chemo had been rough, he'd say, but he was feeling better.
Last night his wife posted to ask for prayers. He was heading back to the hospital in preparation for a new round of chemo. It might be a rough night, she said.
It was his last night. He wasn't even 40. He leaves three young daughters.
You may remember that my brother-in-law succumbed to a vicious cancer back at the beginning of March. It's strange to see their faces looking back at me from my FB friends list. It's stranger still to think that everyone on that list will face the same fate sooner or later.
I am thinking today about my own loose ends that need to be tidied: life insurance, will, a filing system that is sure to be opaque to anyone besides me. We still haven't resolved the re-opened guardian question since my BIL's death. It's easy to be superstitious, to think that it can't happen to me if I choose not to prepare for it.
Maybe that's what the foolish virgins were thinking.
If I could pick, I would die in November when the trees are bare and the year is dying too. You don't get to pick, of course, but you can opt to be a bit more ready. Do you ever think about your own funeral? Would a funeral planning link-up be too grisly?
Maybe I'll post some funereal thoughts on Friday. Join right in if the topic appeals, or check back Saturday for your regularly scheduled NaBloPoMo fluff.
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