Screw You, Cancer

I used to have a blog with this title.  It provided a front-row seat to my cancer diagnosis and treatment in 2006.  It's still out there if you want to read it.  

I got the word last night that another old friend has died.  I don't even really know the details, other than complications from cancer treatment.  Last I heard the cancer was gone, but treatment had left him with new problems.  

I haven't seen Wes in 30 years.  We weren't even close. But something about those shared formative experiences in your 20's leaves you bonded with your companions on a level I haven't experienced before or since.  My days in the theatre  (college, outdoor drama, and touring) introduced me to people and places I would not have otherwise met.  Nothing in 25 years as an attorney has compared to that.  

Wes seemed much older back when I was 19.  I reality he was probably in his early 20's at the time.  I remember him as a hilarious, gentle, giant, hairy man.  (His timeline this morning contains more than one story involving creative shaving of his copious chest hair.)

He went on to be a teacher, and the tributes on his social media today show his overwhelming impact on his students.  He's a person that I wish I'd known as he grew older and, apparently, even better with time and maturity.  Wes was too ill to attend our reunion this past July, and his passing saddens me even more because we all came so close to seeing him again. 

After seeing the news just before bed last night, I had a dream.  I was invited to join a group phone call with my friends from the outdoor drama.  I was late arriving to the audio-only call (Dream-Me hadn't heard of Zoom, apparently), and upon dialing in I heard Wes's voice so clearly.  I haven't talked to him since 1992, yet I recognized his voice immediately.  

Nobody else on the call seemed stunned that he was participating, despite his death just hours earlier.  Upon hearing his voice I blurted out "I love you, Wes!"  He said "I love you too, hon," and went on with whatever he had been saying.   Finally I couldn't resist, and asked:  "Wes, what is it like where you are?"  I tried to sound casual, as if asking about the weather.  

He said "It's so beautiful here."  He talked about the light, and he sounded so happy and peaceful. 

Godspeed, old friend.  Keep the fire burning in the firepit.  We will all be with you soon. 

Backstage at Tecumseh Outdoor Drama 

And once again, Screw You, Cancer.