"J on condolence leave." The note on the appointment screen drove me into a tiny panic attack. I whipped my chair around and demanded of CF, "What?! Why is J on condolence leave?" CF informed me, a little too casually for my taste, "His father passed last night. He went in for emergency surgery and didn't make it." And, beyond logic, I started crying. "Oh, poor J. I need to call him."
J is one of my favorite co-workers and someone I have always been able to to talk to, at length, about all manner of life's issues. He came out to his parents a million years ago, but their relationship remained strained. J comes from hearty stock - big midwestern boys who hunt and shovel snow and chop firewood. He is the only one of his brood that ventured into the big bad world and he has thrived here in Key West.
CF informed me that J was planning on flying out this morning, so I knew I needed to call him soon, before he got on the plane. I hurried outside, lit a cigarette and dialed. J is not without feelings, but he rarely shows any emotion beyond that of irritation. So, when he answered and it was obvious that he was crying, my heart broke for him and his loss. J and his father weren't exactly "close" but he was still his father. I listened while J told me that his father had had an abdominal aneurysm and during the surgery the doctors discovered that his intestines were already dead and there was nothing that they could do. He told me that he was heading to the airport in an hour and that P, his partner of 10 years, was not going with him, but one of his brothers would be at the airport to pick him up. J and P have had a tenuous relationship for about a year now, but they still share a house and a business and I was shocked that P felt like staying here and running the store is more important than being with J right now. After J finished, I said the obligatory words that, in the end, don't help much at all - "I'm so sorry for your loss," "if there's anything you need, anything I can do...." The words felt so small and ineffectual coming out of my mouth.
In fact, I am shocked that J even answered the phone. If it were me and my mother was gone, I don't think that I would be able to speak, let alone operate a cell phone. So, of course, this set my somber tone for the day and I couldn't help but think about death most of the day. More accurately, I have been thinking about family all day. Thinking I should be kinder to my mother, talk to my sister more often, tell them both that I love them. Chastising myself for not getting my Aunt and Grandpa's birthday cards in the mail on time. Thinking that I really need to make it up north this summer to see my cousins.
Going through life worried that you, or your loved ones, are going to die is not highly recommended. However, we should probably be aware that no one lives forever and you may find yourself unable to say the things you always wanted to say. It's so incredibly cliche, but it is also so incredibly true.
This afternoon, CF told me how her father-in-law had noticed a white van parked on the side of US1 for about a week. Last night, he finally decided to stop and check on the situation. There was a man, dead, in the driver's seat. It is safe to assume that he had been dead, in that van, for a week. It is also safe to assume that no one noticed that he was missing. As much as it pains me to think about the inevitable day when I will have to say goodbye to some of my loved ones, at least I know that they would be missed. And, I hope, they will know how much they are loved before they leave this world.
