He didn't even get 18 weeks to live...

I've had a bit of fun with my posts of late but some awful news on the weekend abruptly reminded me of why I started this blog.  In early September I wrote about my Dad's bestie from High School - Mr TJ (18 months to live - what would you do?) who was diagnosed with Grade 4 skin cancer and given 18 months to live. He didn't even get 18 weeks....

I'm in shock that this big, burly Aussie bloke has been taken already.  His height and stature gave me the false impression that he was indestructible.  

He was my Santa Clause personified - he had a huge, jolly laugh, he was honest and brave.  He was kind and just a little bit cheeky.  He had an affinity with the land and the sea - enjoying solo camping trips and dedicating his life to patrolling and protecting our ocean.  

I didn't have the opportunity to share enough of my life with him but those painfully real and open conversations I shared with him in September will stay with me forever.  I know that sounds cliche but I also know that there are very few conversations deeper than your own mortality.  TJ shared his experience openly and with a courageous humour that only an Aussie larrikin can muster.   

I can only imagine how sad and angry his family must be.  I extended every drop of compassion to them and, whilst I want to somehow make it better I'm not going to write some bullsh!t about being grateful for the time they had.  People experience such an intense discomfort when someone shows grief so we try to 'wash it away' by saying things like "be grateful for the time you had", "isn't it great he lived a full life".  And whilst that's all technically true, it's still deeply painful and unfair that he's gone.  

The only small consolation I have is that I wrote my blog for him in time for him to read it and he sent me the most heart warming texts in the subsequent days.  Wrap those you love in the biggest hug and tell them daily why they're special... xoxo