Two weeks ago (the 21st), my friend went to the hospital because his diabetes was acting up and he had pneumonia... His white blood count was through the roof and his hemoglobin was at 6. They were going to send him home but the gal taking his blood threw a fit with the doctor and the doctor finally examined him... No one could figure out how he was even standing but he was such a strong man.

He went to the ER. Where he found out he was bleeding internally somewhere and that his blood was septic. The pneumonia was in his right lung. And he had pancreatic cancer. They gave him 6 months to live. I visited him and he joked and quipped with me. Said he was refusing any treatments. That was the 22nd. His son was doing his research. He would not let his father go down without a fight.

By Saturday, they had completed the tests and scans and pokes and prods and biopsies.... The cancer was in his liver, his lymph nodes, and a possible lump in his lungs. Stage 4 cancer. He was still bleeding internally, a problem they never got to fix. 6 months went down to 2 weeks. He went home. Family, friends, everyone began an out pour of love and support and appreciation. Visitors came and went. He was never alone.

I went and saw him Tuesday. He was up, still walking around. He gave me a huge hug. Said, "You F'er's aren't suppose to see me like this." I choked up and asked him how that was going for him and he said not good, visitors won't stop coming but he smiled. I sat there with him for several hours and watched him deteriorate in front of my eyes. He introduced us to his sons Shane and Kyle and said, "These are my three boys." His middle child has been gone several years now. A motorcycle accident. Slowly he became less lucid. He'd remember our names and talked to us for a moment and then we'd lose him to conversations with his son's ghost. He passed away Wednesday before 2 pm. He hadn't even made it those two weeks.

I was not ready. There wasn't enough time. He taught me a lot about motorcycles. He joked with me. Laughed with me. Teased me. I saw him every morning. His familiar, "He-ey gurl!" echoes in my mind. Every morning, I look for him. I keep seeing him, a great big bear of a man, sitting there on my tiny 250 motorcycle trying to help me get the gears going and trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

I miss his laugh. I miss his first rule. "Skip the head, and go straight for the nuts." He was too brave, too strong, too good of a man to already be gone so soon. I had so much more to learn. So many more stories and jokes to hear. I'm still here waiting for him to fix the machines and do the projects and set up his poker games. I'm not going to get to see him ride in another memorial ride for his son and spinal cord injuries.

That man could make anyone feel included. He had so many friends. He made it that way. Mason, Sons of Silence supporter, father, husband, brother, friend.

I cannot believe he's gone. This hurts so much. There wasn't enough time. It should have been 6 months. He should have gotten to ride his motorcycle once more. He quipped and teased and was witty right to the end. He shouldn't have gone. I miss him so much. This just isn't fair. It's not fair. He was sick. It was his diabetes. It shouldn't have been cancer. It happened too fast! He just got a promotion. I was going to get to see him more!

I am gonna miss my friend. This is going to be so hard. I just can't stop crying. What am I going to do?