goodbye to a dear friend

I got the email yesterday: Medicines pulled, John will pass soon, his soul will live on.

It was difficult to focus on my writing, so I did organizational stuff . I walked to yoga at four, got back at six, talked to P awhile on the phone. I had thought about going to the Dance (where I met J) but couldn't muster up the desire after S and I got home from 2-for-1 veggie burgers at Hut's; I just wasn't sure I wanted to be in the energy that I thought I might find at the Dance. I had transcription work to do, so I did that for a few hours. At eleven o'clock, I got an email from M -- who was going to cat sit this weekend while S and I went to Houston to visit J & A, and then go to my grandfather's 94th the next day: You may already know ~ John died tonight. That was the first I'd heard, but it wasn't a surprise. The night before, I'd had a dream. I saw J in a hospital hallway, he was wearing a blond wig and was smiling and looking around (he was blind). I said to him, "You look like you came back from the dead -- if I can say that...!" He said, "You can say whatever you want!" (That was the night after Easter.)

J was a sweet man, gentle, compassionate, brave (S said he was the bravest person he'd ever seen go through such a thing); but my relationship to J was more about his humor. We shared a sort of twisted humor, which did both of us a lot of good. You have to find a way to laugh when you're spending all that time in a hospital. We spent many hours together in different rooms, me ushering him around while he got blood drawn and spinal taps and checks for this and checks for that and waiting for prescriptions, etc. This was a year to a year-and-a-half ago. He made funny faces which cracked me up, and since he couldn't see me, I felt the need to vocalize my funny faces back to him. Sometimes A would just ignore us -- we were grown men acting like junior high schoolers -- other times, I think she just didn't get it.

That's the thing about having a humor connection with somebody. Sometimes it's obvious to others what funny thing is going on, other times it is just for the two people who share it. Good ol' J; I'll miss that goofy smile and those upward gazing eyes.

And he liked brownies. I love somebody who has a well developed sweet tooth. When the hospital portion of his treatment was over, when he was back in Austin and I would go to their house to organize prescriptions into baggies, I often stopped and bought him a brownie. I got them from different places; I tried to get them from a different place each time. He usually liked them. I usually knew what they tasted like, though, because I usually got one for myself as well!

He also liked animals. Well, I should rephrase that. He had a strong connection to one animal in particular, Dillon, his guide dog. I started crying last night when I realized that J wouldn't be coming home to Dillon, and what will Dillon do? Dillon has been battling cancer of his own for the past six months or so. It's interesting how connected those two are.

I don't know what else to say. I'm sad.

I was able to get some writing done last night after all. I couldn't just sit here and think about the sadness, so I wrote. And I seemed to have a burst of inspiration. I won't say it was J inspiring me from beyond, but he was certainly on my mind. When I got into bed, I had to keep turning on the light because little ideas kept popping into my head, great little ideas that I had to write down, that I would be kicking myself over this morning if I had thought I would remember them because I probably wouldn't have.

This morning, when I awoke, I got the next email: John passed away peacefully at 10pm Mon, March 24. I have a feeling his memorial service is going to be quite the celebration.