·:[ The Healthy Mom ]:·
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All those cliches about life being short, and so precious, and something to be treasured, really have weight and meaning when you are faced with death.

Last Wednesday, September 21, 2005, Joe Priole passed away. He was 36 years old. He had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma, and recently had a bone marrow transplant. Shortly afterwards, he caught pnemonia and never recovered. He was 36 years old.

I got an email from my brother Fran on Thursday morning. I replied and less than 2 minutes after I hit “Send” the phone rang. It was Fran. We talked. I think we were both in shock. We exchanged funny Joe stories. There are a lot of funny Joe stories.

I haven’t actually spoken with Joe in a year or more. One time he sent an IM asking if I was ignoring him, but I wasn’t at the computer. When I got his message, he was offline.

Joe was one of those friends who I could call whenever I was visiting NJ, and he would come and see me. He wouldn’t make excuses, about life, work, girlfriend… Which was remarkable since I always called at the last minute.

I wanted to go home for the viewing but it was the next day. A quick search for airfares meant $900/ticket from Colorado Springs and $600/ticket from Denver. That’s how much it cost when I flew back to NJ from GERMANY for my dad’s heart surgery. By myself. I had to bring the boys with me, which meant at least 2 tickets. In the days of dual income, I would have done it. But I stay at home now.

For days afterwards, I felt edgy and depressed. Not constantly, just in waves here and there. I think I hugged and kissed Doug and the Zboys a lot more than usual. Just breathing in their life and love.

I emailed my “forever friends” - the women who have touched my life in so many ways, and no matter where they are, I could reach out to. Five extraordinary women that I felt comfortable sharing my grief with. I just wanted to say that I love each of them, even if I don’t call or write as much as I would like to.

All, but one, called or emailed me back.

Doug and I talked about it. He actually met Joe a while back, when a bunch of us went out in Philly during a trip back east. It is just mind-bendingly numbing to think of someone so young, so strong to be gone.

This was my first big loss of someone I was once close with. It brought back a lot of the same feelings when I had the miscarriages so close together.

I envy those who truly believe in their hearts that their “God has a plan” and can accept death that way.

I can’t. It’s too cruel and unfair.

But I can embrace the reminder to cherish your family and friends while they are with you. And make spending time with them a priority.

I just wish the reminder didn’t have such a price.

All those cliches about life being short, and so precious, and something to be treasured, really have weight and meaning when you are faced with death.

Last Wednesday, September 21, 2005, Joe Priole passed away. He was 36 years old. He had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma, and recently had a bone marrow transplant. Shortly afterwards, he caught pnemonia and never recovered. He was 36 years old.

I got an email from my brother Fran on Thursday morning. I replied and less than 2 minutes after I hit “Send” the phone rang. It was Fran. We talked. I think we were both in shock. We exchanged funny Joe stories. There are a lot of funny Joe stories.

I haven’t actually spoken with Joe in a year or more. One time he sent an IM asking if I was ignoring him, but I wasn’t at the computer. When I got his message, he was offline.

Joe was one of those friends who I could call whenever I was visiting NJ, and he would come and see me. He wouldn’t make excuses, about life, work, girlfriend… Which was remarkable since I always called at the last minute.

I wanted to go home for the viewing but it was the next day. A quick search for airfares meant $900/ticket from Colorado Springs and $600/ticket from Denver. That’s how much it cost when I flew back to NJ from GERMANY for my dad’s heart surgery. By myself. I had to bring the boys with me, which meant at least 2 tickets. In the days of dual income, I would have done it. But I stay at home now.

For days afterwards, I felt edgy and depressed. Not constantly, just in waves here and there. I think I hugged and kissed Doug and the Zboys a lot more than usual. Just breathing in their life and love.

I emailed my “forever friends” - the women who have touched my life in so many ways, and no matter where they are, I could reach out to. Five extraordinary women that I felt comfortable sharing my grief with. I just wanted to say that I love each of them, even if I don’t call or write as much as I would like to.

All, but one, called or emailed me back.

Doug and I talked about it. He actually met Joe a while back, when a bunch of us went out in Philly during a trip back east. It is just mind-bendingly numbing to think of someone so young, so strong to be gone.

This was my first big loss of someone I was once close with. It brought back a lot of the same feelings when I had the miscarriages so close together.

I envy those who truly believe in their hearts that their “God has a plan” and can accept death that way.

I can’t. It’s too cruel and unfair.

But I can embrace the reminder to cherish your family and friends while they are with you. And make spending time with them a priority.

I just wish the reminder didn’t have such a price.