2025--don't let the door hit you on the way out...
On many levels, 2025 was a mixed bag. Professionally, I have relatively few complaints.
On a personal level, my life has been great. Stephen and I are moving forward with a wonderfully loving journey. I would like to share something about our life together for a future post.
My home has been undergoing many renovations--and I do mean many.
Over the course of the past two years, I now have a desperately needed new bathroom, a new ceiling in the dining room, a new stairwell, a beautiful new kitchen (not completed at the time of this posting), a new back door, and every window in the house has been replaced.
I'm never going to get to retire (three years away, actually).
Where 2025 failed us was the passing of three close friends. Thomas, a dear close friend passed away on April Fool's Day, after being stricken with pancreatic cancer. His passing was a devastating blow to our circle of friends--and especially to Roger, his husband of seven years.
Tom was a great man. He lived life to the fullest. He loved his friends, family, and his husband. He was generous, perhaps to a fault. Generous of his time, his money, to civic causes, and his exuberant personality. Time was a consummate jokester. His laughter was contagious. Tom was larger than life, and we all miss him very, very much. Tom was 60 years old.
On July 30, my friend Corey peacefully passed away in his sleep--I assume from cardiac issues. Corey was a friend of more years than I dare to count. We talked on many subjects, be it plants, our pets, our travels, walking for pleasure, and our dining out experiences. One regret I have always had--both Stephen's and mine--is that I never invited him out to our Saturday night dining out group.
His mother posted the following for his obituary... His life was a testament to the adage by Ralph Waldo Emerson, “To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children... to leave the world a bit better... to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”
I've always envied Corey. He was an increcdibly well traveled man. How could he not have been? He had a long career as a travel agent. Yes, I have traveled but always under the guise of military duty. Mike truly got to see the world through the eyes as a tourist. Corey was 55.
Our friend (the dining group) said our farewells most recently to our friend Mike. Mike passed away on 12 December from an incredibly aggressive, very rare disease called Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease (CJD). There is no treatment or cure for CJD. Once diagnosed, a person's life is but a matter of weeks, even days. Mike lived but three weeks (or so) after his diagnosis.
Mike was that rare man. Kind. Gentle. Loving. Loved to laugh. LOVED to dance. A father and grandfather who led a life by example. There is not a person alive who could have a bad thing to say about Mike.
These three losses have been life-changing for me. Each of these friends were younger than I, making me feel my mortality quite a bit.
I'd like to close paraphrasing a line from the song "Abraham, Martin, and John."
They touched a "lotta people but it seems the good they die young,
I just looked around and they're gone,
Didn't you love the things that they stood for?
Didn't they try to find some good for you and me?
Rest in peace, dear friends. You left us too soon.
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