RIP Francois Georges

Mom just texted Carina and I to tell us that she got the call last night that Francois had passed away.

Francois is the father of the children my Mom au paired for in France after high school.  He was one of my grandfather's close friends and coworkers on a few Chevron projects.  They were like family to my mom and her parents, and my mother and his children and (now ex) wife have remained very close over the years.

Francois was diagnosed with lung cancer a while back, and last year around this time he came to dinner at my parents' house to see their new kitchen remodel.  At the time, Mom and Dad noted how much slower he seemed and how it was their suspicion that the cancer had spread into his brain.

In December, Francois's son, Vincent, invited my parents to have lunch in near his home in Napa.  When they arrived, Francois and his daughter Alexandra surprised my parents.  My parents were shocked at how drastically his health had declined.  If I remember correctly, I think Dad said that Francois's native French came much more easily to him that English and that Mom spoke mostly in French with Vincent and Alexandra while Dad and Francois's wife, Olga.

Mom said a friend of Olga's called last night while she was doing laundry and told her that she was going down the list of names of people Francois had requested be notified upon his death.

After Mom texted Carina and I, I called her back.  She was crying, which broke my heart, and she told me how sad she was that she'd never see him again.  I have to agree, the finality of death is so incomprehensible.

As Carina and I tried to console Mom via text messaging this evening it reminded me of when Papa died, and how even in death he has continued giving me opportunities of a lifetime.  Sam and my trip to Southeast Asia was funded by Papa's generous inheritance as was the car I bought myself last December and the puppy laying asleep in my lap as I am typing.

The emptiness and sadness I sometimes feel is uncomfortable yes, but if it's the price I pay for the wonderful, unforgettable years I was able to enjoy the company of my grandparents I am so thankful for the sadness.

Rest in Peace, Francois.  You lived a colorful life, and tonight I will have a glass of wine in your honor.

Only the Good Die Young

"It is not length of life, but depth of life"

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Today I received bad news from some former teammates: one of the girls I played varsity water polo with in high school passed away yesterday.
From what I understand, she stayed home from work on Monday with a headache.  On Tuesday, at work, she lost her ability to speak and was rushed to a local Emergency Department.  After running some tests, doctors realized that she had experienced a stroke.  I believe at that point, they put her into a medically induced coma and transfered her to a hospital that specializes in treating stroke victims.

Her parents flew from Northern California to Colorado on Wednesday where they received the terrible news that their daughter would not recover.  On the eve of her 30th birthday, Liz Doherty was taken off life support and passed away.
I have lost grandparents, and parents of friends, but Liz is my first friend who has passed away.  I am in a state of shock.

We played together my sophomore year of high school, when our team won the North Coast Section.  It was a tumultuous season for our team: we had younger girls playing more than older girls, our coach was inexperienced, and we didn't stand a chance on paper.  But we became a team despite the barriers to success.

I remember one night, Coach was riding Liz pretty hard.  We were all feeling a bit exhausted and nobody wanted to be there.  Coach said to Liz, "How'd you miss that shot? What are you? Blind?" To which Liz replied, "Yeah, actually, I am blind in my left eye."  Boy.  That was a fast lesson in smart-assing a coach.  One I took to heart and put into practice many years after Liz had graduated.

I remember her giving me advice on not caring too much about the sport- it was character building, but wouldn't mean much out in the real world after college.  Liz lived each day to the fullest.  She lived fast and died young.  But boy, did she have a helluva time doing it.

Tonight, on what would have been Liz's 30th birthday, I am thinking back fondly on that season at Campolindo.  I am remembering her smile, her laugh and the way she could always lighten the mood. Thank you for the memories, I will always think fondly on our time together and wish that it didn't have to end so soon.

"May your glass be ever full.

May the roof over your head be always strong.

And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead."

Irish Proverb