Story Coach Lesson 2: When the News Came
California Guy
The news
of Luke’s death came on Monday afternoon,
August 12. I had just returned
home from a week with the Grandchildren and although I don’t usually check the
phone for messages, for some reason that day, I did. Ben, another cousin, had
called that morning and left the message.
Ben‘s mother, Daddy’s sister, is
elderly and with his, “Dianne, this is Ben,,” I immediately thought the worst.
His next words, however, brought relief, “Nothing’s wrong in our family.” Then he continued, to give me the shocking
news. Luke was only 57, five years younger than Ben, 11 years younger than
me. He died of arteriosclerosis.
To our knowledge, he had experienced
no health problems of any kind; he was always camping or hiking in the
mountains out west or traveling to far away places on some adventure. Ben and I chatted briefly and he promised to
call when he knew any more details. As I hung up, my thoughts immediately went
to his children, a boy and a girl, both in their twenties. As shocked and
saddened as I was, I could not imagine what they were experiencing.
Daddy’s youngest sister was one of
my favorite aunts. She was out-going, full of laughter and funny stories. She
and my uncle were the center of any family gathering when they pulled out their
ukuleles and regaled us with song.
Although they were both gone now, they had left the world three fine
young adults. Luke was their older son.
I knew him as a smart, sweet
little boy; I knew little of the man he had become.
I knew that Luke was well-educated;
he had PhD’s in Cellular & Molecular
Biology and in Pharmacology and was founder and managing partner in a
consulting firm in California. On a whim, I typed his name in a search engine
and was surprised when page after page detailed his work and accomplishments.
Luke was divorced; his Facebook page
portrays him as a fun, nature-loving guy, surrounded by friends whether hiking
or at a formal dinner. His daughter lived and worked in Europe; his son, a
recent graduate, was just beginning a new job. Photos show him with a black
lab; I had to wonder if he still had her and what would happen to her.
My initial reaction to the news was
shock. Somehow, it is one thing to acknowledge the passing of older relatives
and peers; it is quite another to face the death of a cousin, especially one
younger than yourself. It reminds me of my own mortality and the uncertainty. I
wonder if he had had problems prior to his death? I wonder how his children are
coping. Mostly I wonder if he still had his dog and what she must feel. I feel so
sad for his children; I know they are devastated. Photos show them as a loving
family and I can imagine many happy times when they were together.
Luke
was born when I was eleven years old. I was delighted! Even though they lived
hundreds of miles away and it would be months before I would see him, I was
excited to have a new cousin. I was an only child and lived next door to my
paternal grandparents. It was always a treat when cousins came to visit them
for that meant I had playmates!
In
due time, they visited and I was enchanted with him. On the edge of twelve,
going on twenty, I imagined myself an adult and this my own little child. There is nothing quite like imagination! His
sister, Kate, followed the next year or so and then little brother, Mark. I
loved them all.
When
Mark was still a baby, their father became ill and faced a long recuperation. Luke
and Kate, both under, 5 spent the summer with my Grandparents. I was in my
element! Baby-sitting was no hardship; I
volunteered. I fed, bathed, dressed and
rocked them. I made up stories and games to keep them entertained. They
followed me around like little ducks and I adored them and the attention.
Over the
next few years, the family visited at least annually, often in the summer. One year, Daddy took Luke and me fishing.
Daddy showed Luke how to bait the hook and cast into the pond. Time after time,
he pulled his line in empty. None of us were catching anything! Suddenly the sun disappeared behind dark
clouds, the wind began to blow and it began to sprinkle. Luke wanted desperately to catch a fish.
Daddy was just as determined that he would. And just as it began to rain in
earnest, a fish bit! I don’t know who
was more excited – Luke or Daddy or me!
Then I got a bite! Suddenly fish
were biting as soon as the hook hit the water! We pulled in fish after fish,
even after giving up baiting the hooks!
It didn’t matter that we were soaking wet, we were having fun. Finally,
Daddy declared that we had enough fish for supper, so we packed up and headed
home, with a cooler full of fish and one very happy little boy.
The last
visit I had with Luke, he came with Mama and Daddy to pick me up at the bus
station. I was in nursing school and had the weekend off. I did what every
other nursing student did with a free weekend – I headed home! No one had told me that they had come for a
visit, so I was surprised when Luke jumped out of the car and ran to greet
me. In the car, he announced that he was
hungry and would really like to have a “hambooger and milkshake.” He was 8; everything he said was funny and
dear.
After I
graduated nursing school, I married and moved further away. After that I was
rarely home at the same time Luke and his family were there. The few times we were there together, I was
“too old” to be of any interest to him
and he was too busy playing with cousins his own age. Then he grew up. He went
away to school, then moved to California, married and started his own family.
We lost track of each other.
A few
years ago, I was delighted to discover him on Facebook. I sent him a message
and we became ‘Friends.’ Since then, we have kept in touch, exchanging emails
and commenting on each other’s posts. It was good to re-connect with him and I
am glad we were able to know each other as adults. I think he would have been a
good friend.
Luke was
only 57 years old, the same age as Daddy was when he died. Daddy had battled
heart disease for 20 years prior to his death; Luke probably didn’t know he had
heart disease.
Even
though we were not close, Luke’s passing has left me with an empty spot inside.
We were family; we both have/had the same blood running through our veins. And
now he is gone. I will visit my grandchildren again; Luke will never know the
joy of holding a grandchild.
Luke’s
death reminds me that, whether soon or late, we all die. As Buddah said, “The
trouble is, you think you have time.”
21 August 2013
