What the Fuck

Last night, I happened to see a plea for prayer from a friend on Facebook. She's someone I consider a friend, although we've not known each other long. Her husband Lo is...was...also a friend in the same vein.

He took ill just after Thanksgiving.

Went to the hospital.

Came home.

Died this morning while I was making pancakes.

Fucking Strep throat.

How does this happen?

He made amazing spaghetti sauce, welcomed us into his camp and his heart with a grin and some good-natured teasing, and made me one of the sweetest, most flattering (if stunning) offers I've had in my life.

When he saw me on FB or AOL, he'd message me and we'd chat.

Last year, when I was just beginning the divorce and newly in love with Someone, I happened to be at an event with Lo. He worked the late night medical shift. Each evening, I would walk up the hill to the one spot where my phone had signal, and I would call Someone for a chat. Lo tease me about lighting my way back with the resulting smile. He teased me about getting my feet back on the ground rather than floating around. He listened to me as I worked through my feelings about my failed marriage and this new man with whom I'd unexpectedly fallen in love. He hugged when it was needed, was fierce when it was needed, and never once left me feeling judged for being myself, for loving, and for trying to balance on a very thin line.

When he met Someone this year, he welcomed him into the community.

He was a fan of the band, knew our stuff better than we do. He shot one of the few pictures/videos in existence of Someone and I together (usually, one of us is working the camera - difficult to get shots of the pair of us, then), dancing to a Marley tune just before I was due to perform at Wisteria this year

How does this happen?

He and his wife invited our family to come for Thanksgiving. I declined because we had people coming here. Good people, they were sweet to offer.

I was already planning the please-don't-make-me-take-this-food-home potluck for Wisteria next year, and Lo and his wife figured in those plans. I was going to try and weasel his spaghetti sauce recipe out of him...or at least score a jar of it to bring home. Not a chance in Hell, I know, but it would have been fun to try.

I wanted him to see Sprout - he was so happy for me when he found out, and he and his wife were among the first people to know.

When she asked for prayers, I sent mine immediately...because there's a dearth of good souls on this planet, a surfeit of hurt...and when, this morning, I saw people leaving condolences...I wanted to tell them they were mistaken, that she'd only said he was ill, that she'd be posting an update soon that he was rallying.

Prayer works for so many assholes in this world...why not for a good man?

I had to check and double check...and wanted to tell her "J, tell these people they misread..."

I can only imagine, then, what she must be feeling...

Maybe I can't.

How does this happen?

Lo, you'll be missed. We did not have enough time in this life. May your soul find its way to the Summerland, where it is met and honored by your gods and ancestors. When you return to the circle, may I know you as friend.

Hail and farewell.