A good friend of mine, a man I’ve never met, is dying.

I’m sitting in my living room, eating a blueberry scone and drinking coffee, enjoying  a pretty comfortable life.

A couple thousand miles from here,  a good man is facing the end of his life;  not in comfort, no matter what is being considered. 

Every one of us dies; this man isn’t exempt.

Cancer is an insidious and  disgustingly presumptuous disease, with no respect for human dignity, even in the face of it’s victories.

But it is a slight beyond measure for this good man to meet his death bathed in the sour sweat of humiliation, weakness, and ignominy brought on by the thick, fevered blanket of this disgusting disease.  Implanted tubes drain the horrid byproducts of the invasion, as other tubes pump in medicine that, it is hoped, will kill the cancer before it kills him.  It’s a sad and seemingly small hope, nearly cruel, to be held out to him.

A once large and strong man is made small and weak by errant cells, with nefarious aims;  plastic tubing slaps him in the face.

I’ve called him a “good man” twice  now, but is he? 

He’s as good as the rest of us; worse than some, better than many. 

He’s a good man, and though his life may not be a footnote in anyone’s  history text, it’s a life that many would do well to model.   

He loves his family, and worked hard…hard…to show them his love and to  take care of them, until he simply couldn’t any more.

Good men don’t have to be perfect, but at the end of this man’s life, he’s been good enough to have a wife who still adores him, kids that love him, and an extended family,   all being made some degree less by his disease.

That is a measure of a life well spent.

I’ve never met the man, nor will I ever, and for that, I feel cheated beyond measure. 

We’d have been good friends, loud with each other;  the hippy and the redneck locked in friendly battle, him mocking  the length of my hair, me wondering aloud how he can keep his cigarettes wound up in his tee shirt sleeve like that…

I know I would have liked that.

I think he would have.

You did well, Danny, my friend, you did well.