Memento Mori

Memento Mori

When got home from shopping on Saturday, I saw this beautiful card in my mail. It was from my doctor’s office. I tore the card out of its envelope with a great sense of anticipation—it looked like a party invitation or something. But it was actually a death notice. “We regret to inform you of the untimely death of Sue Fenton-Warner, our beloved nurse practitioner, on May 26, 2006. I was in shock! I’ve known this kind, caring woman for 10 years. She was around my age, maybe a couple of years older; she seemed to be the picture of health. I just saw her a month ago when I went for my 3-month visit!
 
Sue is the second person I’ve known who has died without warning and prematurely in the last month. Rich, the husband of my former coworker Brigitte, died of a sudden, massive heart attack in May. It was totally unexpected. Shortly before Rich’s death, they had just celebrated their “110th” birthday party after a volleyball game—on the beach.
 
I don’t know, it makes me feel so... precarious, so empty. Why do I live and these good people pass away? What’s so special about me that there is some plan I’ve yet to fulfill?
 
My best friend when I went to “Sunshine School” on Balboa Avenue was a black kid with Duchenne MD named Shane. We went everywhere together. I hung out with him and his family so much, I started to think I WAS black. You might say I was a wannabe black before it was HIP to wannabe black! His dad was a drill instructor at MCRD. After we fought so hard to get out of that school, I got into Kearney first. The school officials promised Shane could get in the next semester, if I did well. So I worked my ass off to succeed. But, then just around Christmas time, Shane caught pneumonia and died. That’s the fate of all kids with MD. All the boys I went to elementary school with died before age 18.
 
When my mom married my step-dad in 1971, he had three kids of his own. The oldest, Wayne, was born with a congenital heart defect. He was 9 years younger than I. Of my three step-siblings, he and I were the closest. He was very artistic, and in fact I still have one of his little drawings in my room. He died of a heart attack at age 20, while a majoring in photography at Palomar College.

It makes you think... Memento Mori