I wondered, as with the chicken and the egg, which came first? That John just decided he didn’t feel like taking a conference call that morning and made up a seemingly innocent excuse (something I’ve surely done once or twice in my life) and then in the end decided that it wasn’t just the phone call, but life itself that was too much that morning. Or did he wake up that day and realize right away that something about life was too unbearable, at which time he canceled his morning phone call and then did the unthinkable.
There is no stopping the scenarios in my head. The constant dialogue of the brain. To walk into a battle that I didn’t even know I was fighting, and to find out that I had lost (before I could even begin to fight) was devastating. We fought together for everything in our married lives, so why couldn’t we have fought this too. There were so many people around us who were in the battle of their lives, and still are. People fighting every day to rid themselves of disease, and who would fight for life over and over and over again. Why didn’t he choose life. Why didn’t I know that he was battling what turned out to be an incurable disease?
On Saturday the kids and I were due to have a visit from John’s dear friend and colleague, Bill Roach, Roach for short. That was how John (and all of Bill’s friends) referred to him. Just “Roach.” He and John were thick as thieves. I think they talked to each other almost every day. The last time Roach had been to the house was after a day of golf with John, our friend Kevin McCloskey and John’s boss, Kelly. Back at our house after their game and dinner, Roach, Kelly and John settled into our lower level family room. Scotch (or alcohol of choice) on the rocks in hand, they laughed their asses off telling (what must have been) old “flooring world” stories. A quick look down the short flight of steps caught the three of them, red in the face, doubled over, barely able to catch their breath they were laughing so hard. What a sight. What a memory.
But on March 1st, Bill and is wife, Penny, would arrive at our house broken. I couldn’t bring myself to call Bill that Wednesday. I asked Kelly to let him know. I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell him. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to tell the man who had been battling cancer for six years that his “brother” had taken his own life. They seemed to always be there for one another. Roach coached John through the paperwork, excel spreadsheets, and bureaucracy that John hated, and John, in return, compelled his friend to battle on because life was worth it, because there was so much to live for.
Just weeks before, I traveled to meet John at the Las Vegas Market. He was so happy that I was joining him and that we would be celebrating Roach’s retirement and 55 year commitment to Karastan. Roach and Penny’s friends, Bill (a long time Karastan customer) and his wife Susan, were there to honor their friend too, along with ten or twelve other Karastan reps. It was a short three days, but I finally understood why John loved his friend so much. I left them to close up the last day of the show knowing that I would definitely go back the next year, that I would be honored to spend time with this amazing family of his again.
On what was his last day, at his last show as a Karastan rep, Roach was headed out of the building, the blue illuminated walls of the showroom just behind him, and someone snapped the perfect picture. Bill was a man of tall stature, pure white hair with a mustache and a beard of the same hue. We always joked that he could have been the Dos Equis beer man. He just had a presence about him. But when he arrived that Saturday it looked as though the life had been sucked out of him. As though someone had repeatedly punched him in the gut and he was having trouble breathing. The unbelieving head shake started as he walked in. Roach said that he, too, didn’t see it coming. They came to give me a hug, to meet John’s kids, pay their respects to a great friend, and talk through the disbelief the way everyone else had. We had scheduled the funeral for Thursday, but Roach had a doctor’s appointment and scans in Texas on Monday. There would be no way he could get back in time.
Just before Roach left the showroom that last day, before that perfect photo was taken, another picture had been snapped. I will cherish it forever.
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