The sad news came down that Chris Larson lost the battle with cancer on Wednesday. Ny heart goes out to his family, especially his parents. No parent should have to bury their child.
I wish I knew what to say.
I mean, there are a gazillion things I could say, but none of them... I've been crying off and on. I start to talk about it to people I really love, and I just start to fall apart. That's really not like me. I had to break the news to Ferd. Ferd is quite possibly one of the most gentle-hearted human beings on the planet, and the shock in his voice... he posted a lovely statement of farewell on FB that night. I haven't been able to get it together... I could deal with Marco's loss last year because it was an accident, a stupid freak accident that shouldn't have happened, no one could have predicted it would happen, but it did, and it sucked, but... Chris died of cancer. Colon cancer. ADULTS die of colon cancer, not kids like us. That's a grown up death, not the way kids my age...
But I'm not a kid any more. We're not still in high school, insulting the hell out of each other, making fun of teachers, dealing with all the stupid shit that happens in high school. We're not those kids who went to the prom, got hammered at parties, passed notes... did all those little things that shape the adult you become.
I miss Chris. I miss Luca, Pepoli, John B., Goldy, Mike, Amy, Kim, Mo, Trisha, Danni, Pam, Dave... I miss the kids we were. I hope the adults we've become are as cool and awesome as the kids we were.
My last words to Ferd on the phone the past two days have been, "Love ya, brother." Because right now, I'm feeling how tenuous life really is--how temporary every is. Except the bonds of love that shared experience creates.
And because I am Boston Irish, and because there are going to be a lot of tears over the next couple of days down at Doherty's (remember, the Irish get buried out of Doherty's, the Italians from Dello Russo), I'm going to throw in a laugh. Chris didn't introduce me to George Carlin--WBCN & HBO did that--but he DID introduce me to Carlin's famous bit, the Seven Words You Can't Say on Television. He did that in the limo, on the way to the prom, when I was head-over-heels in crush with him and trying to prove to him that the hoyden was really a lady. I blushed furiously and laughed my ass off, even though the long-line body armor under my fairy princess dress made it difficult. So this is for you, Chris. The Bruins won last night--they beat the Habs in game seven at the Gahden, and I think Horton may have gotten a little help from Heaven's newest angel. The clip ain't safe for work, but watch it and have a laugh and get in touch with your old friends. Remember the kid you were and be true to the best of it.
Today's title comes from one of my favorite songs by The Who. It was Chris's favorite band back in high school, and my crush on him was the reason I got into them. I wish you knew that, man. We fought so much about music; both of us were so damned stubborn and butted heads like mountain goats. I gave bands that I never would have a chance because of you. I'm glad I knew the kid you were; it hurts that because of the silliness of life, I didn't get to know the man you became.
Remember, kids, pride is never worth it. I learned that lesson after I'd walked away from my old friends because of the path I chose. Being right isn't the same as doing rightly, and the need to be right, to win, is why so many of us miss out in life.
I know a lot of folks in my life are going through pain right now, and it's easier to draw in and protect than it is to be open, but... try. Keep your heart open. Remember that none of us know when it's going to be over--when Whoever Is Calling the Shots decides that your ticket is punched. As long as you're breathing, you're still in the game. Everything happens for a reason (good or bad), and love... love in all its forms is the only thing really worth having.
Now, I am going to go and cuddle my cat because she is warm, fluffy, purrs in a very comforting manner, and getting very old, call my mum and see how she's doing, write another blog post, and be about my errands.
And please... if you haven't had a physical within the last year, please schedule it. Check in with your body, get the screenings that are recommended for your age group. Chris is the latest in a line of friends lost to preventable cancers. (Not casting aspersions on him--PLEASE, not doing that!) Get checked--get the pap, the scope, the mammogram, whatever. And don't think that you're too young. I found out when I was 20 that no one is too young, and thankfully, it was caught in time. Another friend of mine didn't. Please take care of yourselves.
/end Den Mother Mode
I wish all of you love.
Your Empress
A look at life the point of view of an aging punk. Instructional, amusing, and utterly facetious view of the world, to be read with a grain of sarcasm and a deep thirst for social justice.
Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.
And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.
On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.
And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).
And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.
On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.
And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).
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