Losing one of the Knuckleheads

A few months ago, the father of one of my friends died unexpectedly. The friend, Scott Nelson, is part of a group I affectionately refer to as "the Knuckleheads." This is a group of mostly high school friends that get together several times a year to play golf, drink beer and make fun of each other. It's very immature behavior and the older I get the more I cherish my time with these guys. We've been getting together 3 or 4 times a year for 20 years. As I drove to the funeral, I lamented to myself, "I've entered that phase of my life where the parents of my contemporaries are beginning to die."

I lost my mother when I was 11, but that's unusual. Being born in 1961, my contemporaries parents are mostly between 68 to 85 -- so statistically, they will begin to pass away soon. It's a sad, but also a natural part of life. Mr. Nelson's death was sudden and painful for his family and scary for us, Scott's friends, because we all knew it could have been any one of us at the head of the receiving line at the funeral home. A discomforting and sobering reality.

The only good part of the funeral was it gave the Knuckleheads a chance to get together. They came in their suits and some brought their wives -- two rare commodities at a Knucklehead gathering. We pulled together and closed ranks around our grieving friend and as a group, we tried to help. I'm sure some of the others harbored the same fear I did -- will I be next? Will I be the next to bury a parent? None of us could have have imagined how misplaced our fears were.

Rick Becker came to the Nelson funeral with his wife Dawn. I've know Rick for 20 years, yet I'd never met Dawn. It was nice to finally meet her. I hadn't seen Rick since the previous June. He looked the same as always -- the only difference was that he'd quit drinking in an attempt to lose some weight. Ricky is not fat, but like all of us, he could stand to lose 10 - 15 pounds. We spent 10 minutes getting caught up and discussing our upcoming annual golf trip to Seaview in June. Then we all left -- back to our lives.

On Monday, March 2nd, I received an e-mail from one of the Knuckleheads saying that Rick had experienced a seizure over the weekend. While at the hospital, another seizure occurred. He was admitted and a series of tests ensued. Rick was diagnosed with stage 3 or 4 melanoma. An undetected growth on his back had metastasized and the cancer had already spread to his brain and liver. The top melanoma specialist at Sloane Kettering was engaged and a new experimental drug therapy was begun on March 9th. All the Knuckleheads were hopeful we'd see Rick at Seaview in June.

On Sunday, Rick was admitted to the I.C.U. at Valley Hospital in Ridgewood, New Jersey. In two weeks, the tumors in his brain had grown 5 fold and were restricting the flow of blood to his brain. By Monday morning, he had slipped into a coma. Today, he died. Dead at 42, leaving a wife and 2 young children. Dead in less than a month from the original diagnosis. It's not supposed to happen this way -- this is not one of the phases everyone must go through. We should not have to bury our friends this early. And yet, the Knuckleheads will gather at another funeral -- this time to bury one of our own. It's just so sad.