A friend.

[Roger Kettle]

Yesterday, a friend of mine died. The suddenness of his death was shocking, desperately sad and yet, I have to say, enviable. Apparently, he had felt unwell during the night and had gone back to bed in the morning to sleep the ailment off. When his wife went to see if he wanted some breakfast, she discovered him dead. A straightforward heart attack. He was just a year older than me and had been fit and healthy all his life. I use the word "enviable" because, despite his relatively early age,  I can't think of a better way to go. By all accounts, there was little pain and little lingering. His heart simply gave out.
I will miss my friend, Drew. We shared many daft and happy times, from our cricket-watching days at Test Matches in Leeds and Nottingham to our ridiculous golf outings in the North of Scotland. Beer and laughter. That's pretty much how I'd sum up the time we spent together.
Cheers, Drew.

[Sandy Buttcheeks]

My heartfelt condolences, Roger. Death is no respecter of health or wealth, but while it takes the person, it can't take the memories. I'm sure your friend will live on in others for many years to come.

I understand fully the "enviable" part as my own mother went in for a routine check up, jumped up on the examination table, dislodged a blood clot that travelled to her brain and that was that. Healthy to dead in 4hrs...just long enough to let my brother travel up. Father on the other hand wasted away over several long months. Painfully to endure, a nightmare to watch.

I'll take option one any day!

[Mince]

My condolences also, Roger. And yes, if you have to go, that's a good way for it to happen. But I assume he was about 67, which to me is far too young to go.

[Redundant]

Sorry to hear that Roger, but not a bad way to go, albeit too young.

[Tarquin Thunderthighs lll]

Horrible news, Roger. So sorry to hear this.

I agree with you on the "enviable" swiftness of the departure, but also with Mince and Red in that it was way too early.

As you know, I said what is likely to be my final goodbye to my mother last week, who at 91 is now on what they call 'end of life care'. In truth, I've been saying that final goodbye to her each time I've seen her over the past six years, not knowing if I'll see her again 2-3 months down the line on my next visit, and her not knowing who I was. It's not the way I'd wish to go, nor the way she'd ever have wanted to spend her last years of life - something she'd told us (my brothers and me) many times in the more lucid years. In fact, the accompanying loss of faculties at the time of admission to her nursing home six years ago has actually been the saving grace, in that not knowing she was living the end she dreaded meant that, for much of it, she smiled considerably more than she did in the rather painful years leading up to it. She also managed to kick a heavy smoking habit overnight, having forgotten she'd ever partaken, which quite probably doubled the final years.

But I share her dread, and your view on Drew's swift departure, Roger. I have every reason to expect my own will be along similar lines, having gone through a fairly significant warning to that effect 13 years ago. But, to the Powers That Be... there's no hurry!

[Diane CBPFC]

Sorry to hear of the loss of your good friend Roger. Hugs

[Roger Kettle]

Thanks, everyone.
Of course, by today's standards, Drew's life was shorter than many but it was a fine one. ( He was, indeed, 67). He had a long and successful career in dentistry, a lovely wife, three sons and several grandchildren. He also had many friends and I count myself lucky to have been one of them. As I touched on earlier, we shared many laughs and beers. Yes, he could and SHOULD have been around for another 20 years or so but that wasn't to be. In the end, he went quickly without suffering the indignity of losing any of his mental or physical capabilities. For me, that's a more than reasonable way to go, particularly when I hear about what some of you guys have gone through and, indeed, what I've gone through myself.
So, once again-----cheers, Drew.

[Roger Kettle]

I hate funerals.

[Mince]

What exactly is it that gets to you about them?

[Sandy Buttcheeks]

One less person comes back, sadly.

[Roger Kettle]

What exactly is it that gets to you about them?

I simply think that funerals are an additional ordeal for families who are already trying to cope with the loss of a loved one. Particularly as they usually take place within a week or so of the death, when emotions are raw and many are struggling to handle their grief and the necessary practicalities involved. I realise that, for some people, these ceremonies bring "closure" but, personally, I find little or no comfort in them. I just "get through" them.
My wife and I have both left our bodies to St. Andrews University for medical research so neither of us will have a funeral. I wish the students well when they start examining my much-abused innards.

[Tarquin Thunderthighs lll]

Your ulnar nerve will be preserved in embalming fluid and put on permanent display.

[Roger Kettle]

Had to look that up---I was fearing the worst!

[Mince]

No, Roger, you were thinking of something much much smaller.