There was a voice message on my cell phone this morning when I got up. Even before I heard the message, I had that feeling again.
It was the same feeling I had two days ago when Chin didn’t return my call, when I’d asked how Gary was doing. It was the same feeling I had last night when I sent her an email, asking the same question.
Gary passed away yesterday. Just two months after his 30th birthday. Two months after he was diagnosed with T-cell non-Hodgkins lymphoma.
While driving to work, the emotions swam through me. I’d assumed he’d pull through. That he’d beat it. It was what I’d told Chin on the phone in our last conversation, after Gary had been rushed to the hospital. He was experiencing difficulty breathing. But his condition stabilized, and they were planning to do a biopsy the following day. I told Chin that Gary was going to survive, because he had so many people who were there for him. That was Monday night.
I wondered why I didn’t see him more often. Like I did for my baby sister.
When I got to the office, I called and left another message for Chin. There really wasn’t much I could say.
“He knew.” I said. “He knew how many people loved and cared about him.”
“He knew you loved him very much.”