Wednesday, September 27, 2006

I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning

Still my guitar gently weeps

I am sad.

A while ago, I posted a few times about Adam.

Adam is Nort's son. I have known Nort since I was about 10 years old.

Adam was born three months ago with a serious heart condition.

They pulled out all the stops to keep him alive.

In fact, at 5 weeks, he hit the lifetime maximum of $ 1 million on Nort's health insurance.

And that was before they performed a heart transplant.

The transplant took, and all seemed well.

But Adam has too many other problems.

They told Nort and Mrs. Nort that they had done everything they could do, and that Adam will not live.

I love you guys, and I am so sorry. There is nothing I, or anyone else, can say to assuage your grief. I can't imagine what life has been like for your family these last 5 months. (They knew before Adam was born that he had the heart problems.) I am sure it has been a devastating rollercoaster ride of Hope, rising and plummeting, often by the hour.

And, Adam, you fought like hell, little guy. I am sorry I will never get to know you. Peace.


Oh, I am not done.

Remember Ashton and Demi?

They are our friends who came out here and got engaged last fall. I saw them on my trips back to Minneapolis. They are hilarious and probably the most fun-loving couple I know.

(I think Ashton may come out skiing this season. Especially because I was an evil, selfish bastard who is giving him a lift ticket to Big Sky for a wedding gift.)

Well, they are getting married in 10 days.

After a long battle with cancer, Demi's mom passed away Sunday.

They were really hoping she could hang on, but she had places she had to be.

I hope they are able to make it a celebration next week, in spite of the timing of this, but I know everyone will have heavy hearts.

I wish I could be there next week, and this week, to mourn and celebrate with you.

Demi, I'm sorry. When the whirlwind stops, it's really going to hit you.

When it does, there is nothing you can really do except let it wash over you. Pick up the phone if you need to; send an email if you want. I'll check in with you when things settle down.