I was excited to call my mother and tell her that my son had successfully undergone knee surgery. He's seventeen and needed to have "clean-up" surgery following a prior surgery related to a football. We were concerned because the last surgery left him in considerable discomfort due to nausea from the anesthesia. This time was different and the doctors were able to counteract those effects.
My update call to my mother was met with relief, but the conversation quickly changed to a "sunshine report", so called by my late step-father, when news is passed on regarding a death or major event in the lives of friends.
This one was very upsetting. A close friend of my parents suffered a massive stroke this morning and is not expected to live once life-support is cut off. They are awaiting the return of the only son from Manila before a decision on ending life-support is made.
Upon hearing this news, I was instantly catapulted back to my childhood and all the get-togethers that took place in the neighborhood amongst these friends. Although my parents' age, I took pride in knowing them as an extension of my own family and carried that same feeling into adulthood.
Although I am now far-removed from my home town, my heart aches at the thought of all these wonderful people passing on. We were a community of friends, born of different elements but thrown together in a common pursuit of the American dream. We lived together in a quaint little neighborhood on the outskirts of Fort Wayne, Indiana. Life was carefree (on weekends) and open to sharing the best days of our lives with those who lived amongst and near us.
I don't know if others within our realm consider those the "good days". I only know that I do and always will. Our lives cannot be borne without the knowledge of what we are, or who we were. We all have a different story to tell. For me, I mourn with my mother at the loss of a friend, one that I had the opportunity to see last summer, when I last visited Fort Wayne. We had dinner together and laughed at all the crazy goings-on in our old neighborhood.
I have been touched by an enormous number of people in my life. Some I've had a chance to acknowledge, others I never will. I regret not being able to touch every single person that has ever meant something to me and say "thanks for being there". It is the endless consequence of life.
I won't be able to return to Fort Wayne to convey my heartfelt condolences. I can only hope that my thoughts in this, a simple blog, will suffice.