Today, my elementary school friend M- and I conversed for the first time in a long time. 7 years ago, we and two other friends were inseparable. Older classmates called us the Three Stooges and Larry. We played at recess, sang in the same choir, among other things we did together. Even though I moved after fifth grade, and Michigan elementaries last through sixth grade, they still included me in the Webster Class of 2006 group and I was invited to their reunion.
Through M-, I found out that one of the Three Stooges, I-, was diagnosed with brain cancer. He had been hospitalized about a month and a half ago, and they found a tumor just 15 days ago. Two weeks and he was gone. He's still on life support but he's already entered a vegetative state, and his parents gave the okay to pull the plug, and are making adjustments to their lives as if he's passed. As much as Hollywood makes miracles look like everyday happenings, it's looking grim. Rest in peace, Ian. You were one of the nicest people I knew then, and that 7 years have passed that we've scarcely maintained contact yet I still feel this overwhelming shock and grief is a true testament to the strength of the friendship we had.
http://www.schrader-howell.com/sitemaker/sites/Schrad1/obit.cgi?user_id=784467
http://www.schrader-howell.com/sitemaker/sites/Schrad1/obit.cgi?user_id=784467
It puts a lot of things in perspective. There are so many people whose existence I honestly take for granted. I don't keep in touch with them nearly enough, but I would be devastated should something happen to them. It makes me think about whether I'd die happy if I, like Ian, were to go before 20. Death and mortality has not been such a personal reality since my grandmother's passing, and at the time I was too young to really introspect after the tsunami of sorrow was over. I certainly feel far more mature compared to my 4th or 5th grade self back then.
