things happen that don't appear to make any sense at all. I was on the phone with my husband yesterday late morning when his admin came in to tell him that his sister was calling with a family emergency. We hung up and he called me back with the news that his mom's husband, Dave (they've been married for 2 years, together for maybe 5 or 6 - John's dad passed away 13 years ago from a malignant brain tumor) had had a massive brain bleed and was in the hospital and not expected to make it. The doctors had told Edna (John's mom) that there was just nothing they could do.
I can't imagine hearing those words. It seems like there must always be something they can do, but life isn't a tv show and sometimes things just don't go how you want them to. John went down to San Jose, spent the day with his family and came home, so shaken and upset last night. They'll be taking Dave off life support today - I'm heading down in a little while.
The thing is, Dave was only 66 and an incredibly active and vibrant person. He was the center of Edna's universe and had made her more active - they had parties, they went on huge trips, they were busy. He was a retired doctor and did volunteer work. We didn't spend as much time with Dave as John's sister and her family have and apparently Dave was the guy that brought people together and made things happen. This is completely devastating, especially for those so close to him. He also has a daughter and son from a previous marriage, both who are reeling from such a loss.
I don't usually write very personal things on this blog, but I just feel the need to share this. It's just so amazingly sad and it really makes you think. Dave got up, brought Edna coffee and expected yesterday to be like any other day. Instead, it was his last day. None of us know when that day is coming - I don't want to be doom and gloom here, but it just makes me think. We really do have to live each day to the fullest and not get mad and frustrated with the little things that don't matter (I am so guilty of this) - we have to say things we want to say to people so we don't regret not having said them. (I'm guilty of this too). Dave lived his life fully, with joy and appreciation - I'm so sorry for him that it couldn't go on for much longer and I'm sorry for Edna because I don't know how she's going to do without him. I feel sorry for his son and daughter and for the rest of us - he was a force - he taught my kids how to ski and kayak, took them sledding up in Bear, did puzzles with them, played guitar. They are having a tough time with this - my parents are both still alive as is my grandma, so they haven't lost anyone that they know really well before. This is a lesson for all of us and I know no matter how senseless Dave's death seems now, he'd like us to take that lesson with us - to live and share and love every day.
