Sometimes, life hurts

A while back my brother's best friend Dave was diagnosed with leukemia. Out of the four kinds of leukemia there are, Dave happened to get the exact same kind our dad had. What are the chances?

Dave hasn't been doing too well lately. We got calls on Sunday that things were looking grim and that Todd should get himself to Indy. Then things started looking better. Down, up, up, down, up, down. That is how it goes with AML--it's crazy, complicated, confusing, and anyone's guess as to what's going to work at any given moment. (Often you ask,) What are the chances?

Todd got the call at 3am this morning. Dave has died.

Today, November 21, is the day our dad died two years ago. What are the chances?

It feels cruel, just cruel.

My mom and I are setting the table for the Thanksgiving meal. We've pulled out the old placecards that I calligraphied in elementary school--visible reminders of all those who used to be around our table who have now passed: my dad (Stan), my grandparents (Gran, Sug, Daddy Bob), my cousin (Lee). Dave spent a Thanksgiving or two with us as well.

Giving thanks in the midst of sadness and grief...that is the task these days.