Sunday, December 29, 2013

Uncle Dave

During this walkabout with cancer, as I have mentioned
many times, there have been people who have stepped
into the "frying pan" with us and those who have steered
clear of the fire altogether.

This blog post is about Kyle's best friend, Dave.
He is in.  All the way in the frying pan.

It is a friendship that travels all the way back 
to High School.  A friend that did dumb things with 
Kyle like light bottle rockets in the back of a moving car.  
A friend that may or may not have dumped some pool 
lounge chairs and tables into swimming pools when 
they may or may not have gone late
night 'pool hopping' as teens.

This is a friend who has wound his way in and out of
Kyle's life at all the different stages and times.

Sometimes near.  Sometimes far.  
But always a friend.

It is a friendship that has stretched and been far apart
at times, like an accordion bellows stretched
to its widest, and then it has sprung close again
as time and circumstances have brought their lives
close again.  Time and distance have made no difference
in their bond, sometimes time and life just left
them with little time to share with one another.

This post is dedicated to Kyle's best friend,
 "Uncle Dave."

Now Uncle Dave isn't really my children's Uncle--but
after almost 10 months of Dave being around, he is
nothing but.  When he calls or visits, my girls all
yell "Uncle Dave!" with joy.  He has taken time to
show an interest in their lives.  He has taken the
time to love Kyle and I.  He is as funny as he is
practical and pragmatic.  He has made it a point to
be with Kyle each and every week at chemo, as often
as possible, as often as time and work and travel
permits.  He has made it a point to "pencil Kyle in"
his work calendar and made it a point to just DO IT.
(see last post).  And he has.  Just done it.

I don't know if I asked Dave if he would say it
has been hard.  I don't know if I asked Dave what
he would say his reasons for being here are.  But
whatever the reason, and whether or not it is hard?

He is here.  And for us?  That's all that matters.

Being here.  For us.  With us.  

He has sacrificed hours of time to help us with 
problems, both big and small.  He makes it a point
to call and celebrate good news when I get a job,
or finish a semester of school.  He makes it a point
to text when he knows Kyle and I need checking on.

He makes it a point. 

He makes it a point to call or text Kyle and check 
in when he hasn't touched base
for a while.  He has made it a point to step
out of HIS comfort zone, and be a part of Kyle's life.

He makes it a point.

Even during the worst of the worst of the worst, so far?
He's been here for us.  

I am sure at some point, things will get worse,
and then they will get worse(r). 

And I have a feeling that Dave will still be here.

He has greatly blessed our lives with his love 
and goodness and kindness and service.  He has
chosen love, when he perhaps could choose to shun.

He has chosen mercy over judgement.  He has chosen
to reach instead of to run.  He has chosen to
be a part of Kyle's journey, so that when the time
comes, he has no regrets that he didn't put in the

It's not like he doesn't have a life and family of his
own.  And a VERY busy job and travel schedule.  He 
has all of those.  But he has made a choice to give
of himself to a friend that he has loved and cared 
about for years.  (Now I can hear his voice inserting
some sort of sarcastic joke right now about how
he really doesn't love Kyle, or some other funny thing.)

We have spend hours with him, LAUGHING, yes I said
LAUGHING, at chemo.  We tell stories and share memories
and make new memories and laugh and walk, figuratively,
hand and hand through this hard thing.


Kyle and I and the kids want to give a shout out to 
Uncle Dave.  And while he may not be a literal, physical
Uncle, he is quite literally Uncle Dave.

And that's what I've got for today.

And sorry I stole your picture off of Facebook Dave.

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