I don’t know what to say

This is about a friend of mine named Marc. This morning Marc talked to his dad on the phone before going to work. After the phone call his dad went about his daily routine, including taking a bath. While he was in the bath, he died. A blood clot that had formed in his legs had travelled to his lungs, causing a seizure and killing him.

I don’t know how to deal with these things.

Marc and I worked together for two years and when we bought houses, we bought them in the same neighborhood. We’re one street over and we can see each other’s houses by looking out a window. So when he found out and came home, he came over to talk to me. Being guys, and not the 21st century metrosexual kind of guys, he didn’t come over for a shoulder to cry on. He wanted to let me know in a matter of fact tone what had happened, that he was going to be away for a while, and could I look after his dogs while he was gone?

Of course I can look after the dogs. We’ll probably bring the five of them over and keep them in the backyard with our two. The weather is just cooling down enough that that should work out well. Since he’s going to be gone for a while and I don’t know how long, and since I’ve been playing soccer with shoes that don’t fit and he has a pair that do fit me (but not him), I asked him if I could borrow the shoes before he left. I’m such an asshole.

I don’t know how to deal with these things.

I apologized for asking but Marc is probably the one person with less of a sense of propriety than me and he didn’t understand how being asked for soccer shoes five minutes after telling me his dad had died was in any way odd. He’s a good guy.

We went over to his house for the shoes and I talked with him for a bit while he was packing. He couldn’t figure out what to take. He was having a hard time thinking clearly. I tried to talk to his wife but she seemed to be taking things worse than him. She’s six months pregnant, due in December. That has nothing to do with anything and I don’t know why I’m bringing it up. Maybe it’s the whole cycle of life thing. As one passes another comes to pass. By Christmas everything will be better again, except that their baby won’t get the chance to know its grandfather.

My dad died when I was ten. The funeral was in Iowa and we lived in Texas. My mom and brothers flew up for it but I didn’t. It was my choice and I was scared. About ten years ago a friend’s father died and I took her to the wake. It was open casket. That was the only time I’ve ever seen a dead person before. I couldn’t then, and I can’t now, grasp the concept that the lifeless body that was before me was once a walking, talking, breathing person capable of thought and ideas. I kept waiting for him to open his eyes. April Fools! Of course that didn’t happen.

I’m 32 years old. My brothers are ten and eleven years older than me. My mom is in her sixties. My grandparents are all close to their nineties. Sooner or later people that I love are going to start dying and I still don’t know how to deal with these things.

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