Cancer. Thirty six years old. Newborn son, not even a year old.
We came from different walks of life but we were forced together by circumstance. We shipped off to basic training together 15 years ago. For the next 4 years, through shear coincidence, we were always assigned together. He was a groomsman in my wedding. We spent a lot of time together back then.
He moved closer to home after his enlistment was up, I joined him in the same city about 4 years later after my 2nd term. We hung out every once in a while, but by that point I had 2.7 kids and I couldn’t keep up with the bachelor lifestyle. I decided I’d make it up to him on his 30th birthday, which led to literally the worst hangover of my entire life. He got married, I was at his wedding but not a part of it. His wife was great but as couples we didn’t click, so we stopped taking each other up on invitations. Eventually the invitations stopped.
I went to visit him in the hospital when he first got sick. I brought him an RC helicopter since I figured he’d be laid up for a while. That feels really stupid now, like “Sorry I’ve been a bad friend, here’s a toy.” Nobody knew what was wrong with him at the time. I only saw him once after that, I assumed he was getting better. He didn’t like to talk about it; I found out it was cancer just a few months ago, at the same time I found out it was terminal. At that point I didn’t have the balls to even text him. Our friendship had withered, and I didn’t know how to insert myself back into his life without feeling like I was intruding.
I got my updates through Facebook. Three weeks ago his wife was hopeful about a drug trial opportunity. Two weeks ago, she said they were focused on hospice care and quality of life. Yesterday I saw the condolences roll in.
Matt, you were one of the good ones.
