He was my friend, and we'd lost touch over the 27 years that we hadn't seen each other. He was my roommate in grad school, and a damn good one. We trusted one another the entire time. When I made the BIG mistake and got married in 1987, he was my best man. My ex wife and I divorced in 1990, and he was STILL there for me. Then, he got the job he'd been after all along, as a statistical pro with the FDA in Washington, D.C. He beat back cancer once, and then he got hit again with a rare cancer that ended up killing him. I just found out about it yesterday.
He lived HIS life, and he had every reason to be proud of his accomplishments. To find out like I did was a shock, and I've already spent half the day in a daze, alternating between shaking my head in disbelief and tears.
Ferrin, I'm glad I knew you.
To add insult to injury, I get another procto-sigmoidoscopy the day after tomorrow, and I'm on a liquid diet that started today. Coffee. Beef broth. Jello. Apple juice. It's all I've had all day long, and I'm not just hurting from Ferrin's death, but I'm also hungry and grumpy. FUCK!
I don't need this, and that makes three significant deaths this year. The Temple is no longer a visit, it's a MUST.
And I don't have a ticket yet.
Rue Morgue - '08, '09
Black Rock Beacon - '2010, 2012-2016
(lux, veritas, lardum)
Bacon is forever. Veni, vidi, pertudi. (We came, we saw, we DRILLED.) - BRC Div. of Geology 2009-2015
I'm here until the serendipitous synchronicity is ubiquitous.