Terminal Cases

Wow, it's finally happening, I'm done with "classes." Just student teaching next semester and then it's time to jump into the new world. But, poor me, all the things I could have done better in the past three and half years, all the nights when I could have practiced 15 minutes more...but really, poor me, I've made all of these wonderful friendships that I must leave and be a whole 4 hours away from. Wow, my life sucks.

Growing up my mother and I had an unusually close relationship with an older couple, Ann and Wes Smithers. Ann used to teach English at the Academy and that is where my mom met her. When my parents separated, it was Ann and Wes that invited us into their home for nearly two months during that summer while we awaited a vacant apartment. For two months this couple, who could have been living up one of their few summers of retirement, opened their home up to near strangers because they felt it was the right thing to do. We ate dinner every night like a family and did all sorts of summer activities that one might do with a set of grandparents (something I was not lucky enough to have.) As the years went on, Ann and Wes remained close. We would always invite them to our big Christmas party, over for dinner, my graduation, etc.

Tuesday (12/5), after spending the weekend in Potsdam to see the annual Candlelight Concert, my mom emailed me with bad news: Wes had been diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer and the prognosis was not good: only three-four weeks to live...just in time for Christmas. Saturday (12/2), Wes was sent home to spend his final time with his wife and family. Yesterday, less than ten days after his diagnosis, Wes died.

In the Christmas classic It's a Wonderful Life, an inscription appears below the photograph of Peter Bailey in his office at the Bailey Building and Loan that says: "All that we have is that with which we have given away." For Wes this was a way of life and was something that came as second nature to him...For someone who gave so much, it just doesn't seem right to have it all taken away, and to know that it is being taken away, so quickly before one gets to say any goodbyes or any last sentiments. Geez, what does this say about fate: Doesn't really matter how great you are because, as John Irving says, "In the world according to Garp, we are all terminal cases."