29 years, 6 months and 3 weeks to the day ago,

*Please don't put off worrysome cancer signs, Please*


I met my best friend Rory. This post isn't about him near as much as it is about me and about sharing this special moment with you.
Ok Ok, it is about him too.
I found out last Thursday that Rory has Stage IV Melanoma and that at the very least, it has spread to all his lymph nodes with further tests to determine if it has spread elsewhere, which I expect it will have.
I'm less than a month from having graced the earth for 59 years, and this is the first time I've experienced anything like this. I'm really scared, scared of losing my dearest friend, scared of losing a connection that has made a really lonely life meaningful, I'm afraid of losing my touch with reality. You know, not only did we do this, but we remember it and talk about it from time to time. It's what makes it real. I'm really afraid about what happens after he dies, how at my age, can I replace such a vast pool of love, friendship and connection with a real person?
I'll feel as lost as a five year old boy in the shopping mall, like Mall of America mall.
Who's gonna hold my hand?

We held each other's hands, not literally mind you, not often enough of that, but as sure as the Sun rises in the East, and sets in the West, that's what we did.
Every time we've spoken by phone in the last twenty years because I've lived thousands of miles away, as we shared our moments that mattered, we learned to love in our heart, in languages that my tongue doesn't speak, that's what we did.
Don't get me wrong, there were days he was too busy, or I was , or either of us was self consumed with something, but every single conversation we ever had excepting maybe three, were ended with I Love You, and Good Night.
We took each other for granted the right way if that's possible. While there were certain boundaries, he was married, so it wais he and Maria, time differences, certain political stuff. We knew that we'd both be there for each other tomorrow, no matter what.
We will both still be there tomorrow, but in a new way, a way foreign to either of us.
I've written all that out because it is perfectly normal and honest to experience any one of those fears and please, PLEASE, permit yourself to because until you do, until I do, I cannot help my dear friend Rory on HIS journey.
I so desperately want to hold his hand right now, to pray with him, to talk, to experience and to help experience, to say thank you, to have this little voice in my heart say, "so this is what family feels like" and to let him know that yes, it is. To give him a safe space to doubt, to fear, to confess, to hope, to cleanse, to grieve, and most importantly, to experience his journey with a friend holding his hand on the most wonderful steps as he takes them on his terms.
I love my friend Rory, and I want to share my struggle because I'm not alone, and if any of you have words of wisdom, I always read comments and would be so humbled with your precious guidance.
I'll close with sharing my belief that to the best of my ability, my role should be to celebrate his life with him, to cushion his journey with the powerful impact he had on some people, how his keen awareness of his weaknesses strengthener his humility, and how his good, can never be erased. I think we've all felt that fear of what if I wasn't good enough? Did enough? And to ensure that these steps, like Those Footprints, will not be travelled alone.
Please let love guide me
John Mckusick