I am so sorry for your loss, Vortex. Fuck cancer, indeed.

Of course, knowing my dad, he'll ask Paul why he never asked me out :)

Well, sure! He's still a *dad,* regardless of his state of existence. My dad will be fixing people's cars and mowing their lawns in the afterlife. I'm sure of it.

Vortex, I am so sorry. Eff cancer in the a.

Paul was that guy that I could see myself marrying after we got all of our various shit out of the way. He was good looking, charming, smooth, former spook and current US Marshal - big box o' sexy. He often told me that I was his only female friend, and we had friends who refused to believe that we hadn't slept together (which always made me laugh. I once said to one of them "I can understand why you'd think that I'd lie about it, but why would he lie about NOT sleeping with a woman" and the friend said "I don't know, but I can't believe that he never slept with a woman as hot as you").

Of course, now I regret not sleeping with him.:) The opportunity came up more than once, but we always decided against it. That's why our friendship was so strong.

He refused to let me visit him after he gone home for treatment, he didn't want anyone to see him when he was sick, and I respected that. I can't regret that, I wanted to remember him as the supersuave ladies' man that I loved, not wasting away in a hospital.

Vortex, I'm so sorry. Strength and comfort to his family and the people who loved him, especially you. Your dad will no doubt be an excellent guide.

Ginger, it's never easy, and Sayers is so very right. I'm sorry someone you know has lost a father.

Aims, I'm so sorry for your uncle. I'm surprised he's still standing, and with his epidermis intact, after the psychic blast Bitches have aimed at him on your behalf.

Oh, Vortex, that is really sad.

Paul, I didn't know ye, but here's to your supersmooth self.

I've been mulling whether to say anything on this, but the memories of other lost friends is encouraging me.

There was a story in our news about a local student going missing in Hawaii. A couple of days ago, they found his body. He was a pretty good friend of ours, much more of Hubby's than mine. He and his in-laws and family were on a trail, he was up in a tree and fell out onto his mother-in-law. They both hit a rock, and she broke her ankle. They thought he hit his head on the rock, but he insisted he was fine. He was horribly mortified by having hurt his MIL, and went off a little way to sit down and catch his breath. His brother-in-law said they were heading out in a little bit once they got MIL's ankle strapped up, and he said he wanted to gather his composure a bit longer. They never saw him again.

They headed down the trail, didn't see him, assumed he'd gone ahead. After a while, they realized they didn't know where he was. He may have gone on the wrong trail, or slipped off once his head injury got too much for him. There's a lot of growth where they were. It was nearly a week before they found him.

I find a lot of Hubby's friends to be like large, overly friendly puppies: fine in small doses, but tiresome in the long run. But such a damned weird death is haunting.

Gah, Connie, that's terrible.

But such a damned weird death is haunting.

Seriously. Yikes.

He was one of the teenagers who seem to gravitate to Hubby through gaming or the Society for Creative Anachronism, working their way through their post-adolescent angst in my backyard. I've been hearing his stupid laugh in my head, and I hate being able to picture him getting more and more befuddled there in the forest.

{{{{{Connie}}}}}

{{{{Ginger}}}}