Death (updated)

UPDATED: Sonya, the "inappropriate Texan" passed on 29 April. We only get one life, my friends. Go live every fucking minute of it, ok? Sonya's obit here: https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/name/sonya-phillips-obituary?id=54996576

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Cheery title, eh?

I never promised this blog would always be about fun stuff. I did promise it would be authentic, though.

Our community lost a giant last week. Pat O'Leary was one of the most authentic people I've ever known. He had his hand in so many community projects and causes, especially at the Sherb. He was so incredibly generous and funny as hell. And he was an amazing husband and partner to Marti (if you've ever heard Marti laugh, you know how happy she was).

Pat & Marti at Halloween 2023.

Pat found out he had pancreatic cancer just a couple of months ago. He died last week. So fucking fast. My little community is reeling from the loss, and I can only offer support from afar, through text messages and phone calls.  While Pat's physical body has left us, his spirit and energy will always be a foundation and inspiration for our community.  Someday I'll hear Marti laugh again, and we'll all wonder what Pat just whispered in her ear to make her laugh so hard. 💕

Speaking of fucking cancer, just a couple of months ago, another giant was taken in less than a week from pancreatic cancer. Glenn Tolle spent his entire life serving his country in the Army, and then as a teacher after retiring from the military. I served with Glenn in Afghanistan and he taught me so much about being an officer and - most importantly - about staying calm when the shit hits the fan.  Glenn may have been the only Soldier in history to bring a fiddle to a combat zone, but we were all so glad he did because the music he made gave us a small reprieve from the daily bullshit.

The idea that someone so strong, so vibrant, so in love with life could be diagnosed and gone so fucking fast rattled the ground for everyone who knew Glenn.

Oh, you thought I was done with the death talk? Unfortunately, no. 

While driving through Texas this week, I reached out to another Army friend who I hadn't seen since the last time I drove through Texas.  We had been out of touch for a bit, but when I heard her voice on the phone, I knew immediately something was very wrong. I made the plan to divert my travel (despite my desire to get through Texas as fast as possible) and go see her. She warned me that she had been sick for awhile and was really thin. I made the joke that at least she didn't have to worry about the dreaded Army weigh-in anymore. 😉

I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I walked into her house.  My friend - who had been the strong, wildly inappropriate Texan who kept us laughing all the way through OBC, who dragged us to karaoke when we were so fucking tired from training - is now just skin and bones and is so weak that she can barely walk or talk.  Oh, she's still an inappropriate Texan when she does talk, but damn, her path to the end is long and excruciating.  I only spent one day there, because she was brought to the hospital in the middle of the night and is still in the ICU, where I could only be with her for a few hours before the nurses shooed me away. I'm overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness and deep deep sadness, but also so very grateful for that inner voice that yelled at me to go visit on this trip. I probably won't see her again in this life. 

This is how I want to remember her. With her girls and a big weapon, probably saying something inappropriate to make us laugh.

What happens after our heart stops beating and our lungs stop breathing? I don't know.  What I do know for sure is that we all only have this moment, this breath, this consciousness. So for my friends who have passed, and for the lives I touch in person and virtually, I'm going to go be present in those moments, be conscious in every breath, and have some adventures. Do the thing. Say the thing. QFA.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti.  Peace Peace Peace.  Namaste.