I had forgotten how soon the void comes. Forgotten that it is immediate, that the anger that others are still buying lattes and complaining about a chill in the air because they do not know how the world has changed develops so soon. Not anger, but confusion. Last night at around 5:50 I lost my best friend, my daily curmudgeon and a good guide in my life. He realized his cancer existed on my birthday weekend two years ago. 18 months of crazy battle later, the fight was lost. Most of you, my friends, have met him. And those who didn’t have heard of him, as I am a heart and story on my sleeve kinda kid. He was indeed my best supporter and really the father that I never had in my youth. Remarkable and mysterious, he was. I know with my entire heart that he would have given me his kidney if I needed it and simultaneously given me so much shit for ruining mine. He would implore me to bring him my collared shirts so he could clean them for me, I dubbed his house the Vaughandromat…I know he was so pleased to be able to do these things (and frustrated that I would wear a dirty collar). If you didn’t meet him, I need you to know these things: He knew more of pop culture and current music than anyone I know. He dealt good advice with a dose of healthy snark. He worried about me more than I worried about myself most of the time. He served up a mean rusty nail in his kitchen while we listened to his “cooking” or “cooking 2” mix, a great mix heavy with Adele and running the gamut to the Dixie chicks with some of his favorite college tunes mixed in. These nights tended to end with both of us crying and telling stories of youth or those weve lost. Damn you rusty nails. I honestly looked forward to those nights. He was completely my best friend. He joined my friends at regular roller derby bouts, music concerts here and in Bloomington, home of his alma mater and theater. He was very proud. He loved travel and ceviche - texting photos of the best plates of food from side-street restaurants in Paris or Copenhagen or Buenos Aires. He had more depth than most imagined. And revealed a big heart when he was needed. I loved him so much. Last night I was honored to hold his hand while he breathed his last. I am thankful that after a year and a half of ups and downs, miraculous results of some treatments and a resurge of cancer a month later (and this over all over again) that I was able to be there holding his hand as promised, exactly where I needed to be. And I am grateful that when it came, the final struggle was a brief one. He was surrounded by three humans who I love dearly, three people that he pulled together and made a family of; Team Townsend. I am so thankful that he gifted me these three strong and remarkable women. I was able to sit in the still and quietness afterward, near him. Remembering what it is like to lose someone- such a sudden hollowing out of our insides. Such a vacancy in our worlds. In the form of this human we loved, in the form of a routine I had developed over the last year and a half, in the form of daily phone calls and check-ins that span back 8 maybe 9 years. I do know that he will continue to steer me with his words and eye rolls as they echo in my head. I will think to call or text him my daily successes and concerns, though it will all be in my head, and I will know what he would tell me. Rest in peace, my dear friend, my love. Thank you for changing me. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for loving me. And in neighboring rooms someone wants more chicken noodle soup. Televisions are blaring. Life continues for those who didn’t know.
Posted on: Mon, 15 Dec 2014 16:44:58 +0000
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