May. 28th, 2013

It was 18 years ago this summer that we got inquiries on the Rialto (Remember the Rialto?) from one who was about to start grad school at Catholic U., and wanted to know if there were heralds in the area. Umm, why yes, there were a few. He came to herald practice pretty regularly once he moved in. We survived the Blizzard of '96 and 12th,er,13th,er,14th Night together. Our friendship endured for those nearly eighteen years. I managed to refrain from maiming his father the morning of his wedding (and also from throwing his brother off the 11th story balcony that night, after the wedding). Two weeks ago I was over at the apartment he and his wife were moving out of, packing stuff up for the move (and carefully NOT packing the many things that were not going with them in the move). We were planning to help unpack boxen in their new place this past weekend.

36 hours later he had a severe stroke. A week and a half of heroic effort by the medical team only yielded that he wasn't going to make it. 11:10 pm Eastern last night was the end.

He was born only a few months off from my kid sister. Now he's gone, and it's hard to understand how this circumstance could occur. Heart attack due to a congenital condition that stayed hidden until it was too late? Post-operation coronary thrombosis (aka throwing a clot), or even a post-op cerebral thrombosis (clot-based stroke)? Those are more understandable flavors of shit-happens. But a *hemorrhagic* stroke at age 42? That just ain't right.

I'm finding it hard to come up with words to explain what he meant to me.

[ profile] pedropadrao, I will miss you immensely. We all will miss you one helluva lot. Your wife will miss you even more than the rest of us combined.

Baruch dayan ha'emet.



June 2017


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