I didn’t even know him, not really. I’d never met him, and even as online acquaintances, I wouldn’t say that we were especially close. We had wiener dogs in common. And politics. And a friendly east coast/west coast sports rivalry (although he was not a Patriots fan). I was always excited to see when he posted on Facebook because I knew that what he had to say would be witty, intelligent, and thought-provoking. Often accompanied by a picture of his long-haired wiener dogs, Harry and Kami; or his beloved folk musician wife, Perry; or a sandwich. The man loved his sandwiches. (And BACON).
David Greene lived in Massachusetts and had a huge following of online friends and acquaintances from all over the country. I also enjoyed the interaction with them—again, wicked smart and witty people. One of the remarkable things about him was how very much he loved his wife, P. Without gushing, he expressed this adoration in simple, tender words. He was very proud of her and would frequently post video clips of her musical performances. He often said, “I am such a lucky guy.” And you felt it; they were lucky to have each other.
He’d complained of back pain this past fall, and then I noticed he hadn’t been posting much. I felt some alarm bells set off because the political silly season was heating up and there weren’t many snarky comments from him. Then just this past Monday, out of the blue, he posted this:
Cancer. Yes, hearing your doctor say that word to you is every bit as fucking awful as you imagined it to be, and now I am one of those people who knows this first-hand. And while many people survive a long time or are cured forever, I have been told by many more doctors (including some of the best in Boston’s world-renowned hospitals) that I will not be one of those people.
P and I have come to as good a terms as two people possibly can that the best I can hope for is not much time at all, and a lot of good pain medications before time runs out. We’ve been running through all the stages of grief one learns about, and doing the best we can.
I’m 51, so this isn’t something either of us were planning on at this stage in our lives. And yeah, we’re devastated and angry, but we’re trying very hard not to let that take up too much of the time I have left.
Much love to you all, and thank you for your friendship. Above all, don’t take tomorrow for granted. Live today as if it counts, because it truly does.
Enjoy every sandwich.
And then today, we learned that he passed away last night. I feel gut-kicked. No, I didn’t really know him. But I sure did like him. And I will miss him. There have been literally hundreds of people posting on his timeline with touching memories, witticisms, pictures of luscious sandwiches, and expressions of utter shock—but I nodded knowingly that not a single person posted the trite “sending thoughts and prayers.”
Our power blinked off last night about 8:00 (oddly, right around the time that I later learned David Greene died, but I won’t go there…) and it stayed off until after midnight. We follow the local PUD on Twitter and they announced there were power lines down on the south end of the island. Possibly from a vehicle hitting a pole? Or a fallen tree? It wasn’t windy or anything, so who knows. It was our first power outage in the house and it was DARK! Dug out candles and flashlights, and then John made a deck fire and we spent quite a bit of time out there enjoying ourselves! Thankfully it was rather warmish for January. The dogs chewed on steak bones (in the dark) and now and then we’d see a white blur of kitty paws dashing by. Our cell phones still had a decent charge, so we perused Facebook and other sites until we blew out the candles and stumbled to bed. (We sure do take a lot for granted, don’t we?!)
I texted with Nate for a bit Monday evening. He is now teaching on his own after completing his training for it; first in his group to be given the go-ahead. He’s teaching “A” School for Navy sonar techs, so many of his students are pretty ripe out of boot camp. He is loving it. I think he’s found his calling! He has this assignment through 2018, and it’s possible he can continue with it throughout the rest of his re-enlistment time (which is 2019). He sounded so content! He’d be perfectly happy to never have to step foot on a ship again!