Where's the Silver Lining?

Sorrow surrounds us

I have put off writing about this for over a week, so I may as well face it and put it in writing. Avoiding doesn't change.

One of Robert's favorite cousins, Duane Depuy, died almost a week and a half ago. One of his first employers and a life-long friend, Leo Winter, is dying and not expected to survive but a few more days. Another friend from childhood and until our children were in junior high is filled with cancer and is not expected to live much longer. Reminders everywhere.

But Duane was the hardest. His mother, Mary, was one of Robert's dad's sisters. She and her husband farmed a few miles from Robert's family's farm in the Oklahoma Panhandle. Duane and his younger brother Jimmy and Robert and his brother and sisters all graduated from the same small school. Jimmy was closer in age to Robert, while Duane was four years older, but Duane and Robert were closer emotionally.

When Robert and I were first married, Duane and his wife Ruby became close friends. We enjoyed visiting with them over the years. We stayed close until Rene, our oldest, and Curtis, their younger child, were in the second grade. Then Duane and his family moved to Colorado to ranch. We stayed in touch, but the many miles and experiences caused the distance that occurs between people. However, anytime we were together, we felt as if we had been apart just days or weeks rather than years.

Duane had diabetes and had since he was a child. When he lost his sight, he and Ruby had to pack away their dreams and sell their ranch, a ranch we visited once and marveled at the space and grandure found there. They moved to Amarillo, where they lived until now, where Ruby still lives.

Duane became bed bound because of other health issues tied to his diabetes, but he never lost his love of life and of those dear to him. We only visited them one time in Amarillo, but, again, we stayed in touch. Robert would call Duane, or Duane would call Robert. They would visit on the phone for hours at a time. They loved each other in that special way that friends have.

We knew Duane was failing rapidly. Ruby kept us advised through email. After she let us know that his time was short, Robert called and visited with his cousin one last time. Three days later Ruby called. Duane was gone, but he had let her know how much he loved Robert.

I wasn't here when Ruby called. I had gone swimming to relax my mind and aching body. Thankfully, Mary Mahoney, the hospice chaplain, was. She comforted him. When I got home, and he told me, we comforted each other. Robert talked for hours about Duane and some of their fun times growing up. Both men grew up in dysfunctional homes where they were not loved and appreciated ever by their parents, yet they loved each other and enjoyed their times together.

Robert has thrown himself into his "projects." I know that's his way of dealing with his loss and with the awaiting losses. Sometimes thinking is too hard, and only action can allow a person to continue.