Finally

My friend died on Friday. He had cancer that started out as melanoma, and in the last 7 months spread to his organs, his spine, his bones and his brain. For the last week he was barely a shadow of the person I knew, laying in his bed with a diaper on, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. I'm glad that he is gone, and no longer has to suffer the ridiculous amount of pain that no 35 year old man that served his country in the United States Army should have felt outside of combat. I am glad that his wife no longer has to sit by his bed, day after day, holding on and being strong for him, trying to be just his wife instead of his nurse. I am glad that I don't have to think of him writhing in pain whenever a breath was trying to work it's way in and out of his lungs. Oh, the joy to know that his brain is not trying to function through the mush it became anymore. But I hurt. I hurt so bad for his wife, and his family and for myself. I hurt for the people who are not over the suffering, but are beginning yet another round of it. I hurt for the fact that I won't hear him laughing on the other end of the phone, telling me that a dingo ate his baby in a horrible Australian accent. I hurt knowing that he won't be coming to visit this summer like we planned. I hurt knowing that he wont fly another kite with my daughters. I hope he doesn't hurt anymore.