A few hours from now I will pass the moment when, one year ago today, I received a call at my work in Oregon from the University of Utah Critical Care Unit trying to reach George's dad because is was time for someone to start making decisions for George. I didn't even know he was worse - thought he was happily starting his next round of treatment; radiation to add to the oral chemotherapy he had already begun. I hadn't called him the previous Sunday just to allow him his adult space. I think my last conversation with him had been along the lines of, "Are you getting on with your life? Have you thought about school? You know, you could serve a special Mission (for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) while you recover."
He wasn't recovering. He was dying. He just wanted to keep it to himself, either to not bother us or just because it was his own, private journey. I'm going to spend the weekend in Vancouver, Washington with two of my kids & my grandkids. It's going to be a rough few days.
I miss you, Gingle!
I remember my cell phone ringing at 1:30 in the morning. It was so strange, because I always turned my ringer off at night. That particular night, I just happened to forget. I remember you telling us that we all had to get to Utah and that he was not likely to last the weekend. I don't think I've turned my ringer off at night, since then.
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