September 18, 1990...
Thirty-four years have passed since Bryan died from thyroid cancer. He was only 23.
Even after all this time, I still grieve his loss.
We met in college and instantly became friends. It was hard not to be friends with Bryan...he made it so easy. Technically, he was an only child but that did not stop him from acquiring hundreds of brothers and sisters. He was well known and well loved...
Bryan was just one of those people that didn't let much bother him. He went with the flow of whatever came up in his life. There are so many stories I could tell you about him...the practical jokes, the late nights in the darkroom developing his own photos, fishing in the lake while paddling around in inflatable boats, getting caught by the game warden for fishing without a license and so on...but it was his smile, his laugh and his genuine love of life, and his love for those around him, that showed his true character.
It was his zest of life, and ultimately the way he dealt with his illness, that proved to be his greatest gift to us all. Bryan was a diabetic. He never hid that from us and...he never allowed it to stop him from doing whatever he wanted. But there came a time when he shared the news that his eyes were beginning to hemorrhage and his doctor suggested, in no uncertain terms, no more strenuous activities. Bryan and I talked about cutting back on our racquetball games and his golf outings, but we never did cut back. Bryan didn't want that. He wanted to go and do things while he still could. He wanted no regrets...
And so, we continued to do the same things we'd always done. He probably had more candy bars and soft drinks than the doctor would have liked, but there was something about Bryan that I just could never say no to him. I admit I felt guilty about going along with him, but it wasn't until years later that I came to terms with it. Looking back, I'm so glad we did the things he wanted to do at that time.
Less than a year after we graduated, Bryan and I were talking and he said he wanted to share with me that he had been diagnosed with thyroid cancer. He would be going through the treatment protocol of chemo and radiation.
Over the following months, there were times when Bryan could only write letters. The trach prevented him from doing a lot of talking, along with the nausea, but we worked it out that I would talk, he would listen and write letters. I would use the phone calls as a way to answer his questions or to just let him know how things were going.
His hopes were always high and even though talking was difficult, he would still muster out a comment or two and a laugh. And as the disease ravaged his body, it soon became apparent that Bryan would not be able to fight this off. He became weaker. His mom would hold the phone for him so we could talk. Plans were made to come see him, but every time, he would end up back in the hospital or have more treatments. The drive to his home would be between 4-5 hours. And so, the visit I had promised him, never came...
One evening, a phone call from his dad brought the news that Bryan had died. My friends and I made arrangements to ride together to his home in the mountains of NC. There we would have a drink and shoot some pool in his honor the night before he was to be buried.
The funeral was tough to get through. A member of our group had left us and we were lost. We'd spent so much of our life together over the past 5 years...so much compiled together that we had no idea it would end up being a lifetime of meals, movies, trips, fishing, friendship, love and laughter, all rolled up in such a short amount of time. It just wasn't enough...
And so, 12,419 days have now gone by. Grief doesn't have a timeline and it is especially true in this case. Maybe one factor is because we were the same age...so young and so much life left ahead. But when grief does manage to sneak in, I'm reminded of his insistence that we continue to do life, no matter what the days ahead have in store for us. I'm glad I didn't hold him back. I"m glad I never said "no" to him. Maybe in some deeper way, he knew that his life would be short because I've never met anyone who valued every minute of every day as much as he did.
Bryan, you are always in my heart and on my mind. As I continue to age, you remain eternally young...I am forever grateful to have shared 5 years with you. I see you in the simple things. I miss our conversations. I miss your strength, your courage to face trying times, your hugs, your laugh and most importantly your love and friendship.
You were the truest of friends...even to the end.
I love you, always...
~Parker
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