You know, that rollercoaster called life? The one that offers all the exhilarating highs that leave you giddy with joy only to be followed by all the devastating lows that challenge the status quo and the contents of your stomach?
I’ve always been rather envious of those passengers that throw up their hands in anticipation of those lows and scream deliriously all the way down. Ah, to be young again, to defy gravity, and life. Nowadays, I’m more likely to simply throw up heading into those lows; I'm more into quiet moaning prior to barfing. My inner ears aren't what they used to be, along with quite a few other body parts.
It’s odd, really, given I was the resident daredevil growing up, climbing to the tops of trees to sway with the wind or dating bad boys for the sheer thrill. Then again, I had a love-hate relationship with my father as a teen following my parents’ divorce. Whatever!
The point of all my babbling and talk of barfing is I hit another low yesterday. The ride down has not been pleasant, all barfing aside. Life is never pleasant when watching someone you love suffer with the indignities of a slow, debilitating demise. In the end, there was no defying gravity.
I’m told my brother-in-law was at peace in his final moments, his suffering over. I plan to cling to that piece of providence on life’s straight-away. It’s the only way to make sense of such a tragedy in the face of his humanity - his genius, his gentleness, his devotion to family.
Goodbye, dearest Rodney. You will be missed; and forever loved.