At the weekend I had begun to formulate some convoluted premise, some diagnostic perspective regarding a hopelessly mitigating anomaly in a game, but considering the severity of recent events my nepotist evaluations seem inappropriate. An acquaintance, a gentile man of much endeared repute and a respected member of the community, who by the purest of coincidences also happens to be the finest barber that has ever groomed, pruned and sculptured my matted, greasy follicles was informed that he was dying. The culprit was a cancerous lump, that despite repeated treatment has spread beyond medicinal support or procedural interference. In the interest of discretion, I would be remiss to reveal the specific identity of the individual. But I can assure that his vacancy has been felt. I realise that this declaration is a stark breach of my conventional protocol, whereby I advocate/admonish some irrelevant digital, conceptual integration, and I certainly appreciate the maligned subjection of cancer awareness. I had taken necessary precautions that the fragility of the situation would not be considered as exploitation of the precarious infirmity stated, and I had considered whether deferring to an alternate means of expressive disclosure would be a more acceptable form of expository articulation, considering the hesitancy I comprised with such a vulnerable topic. But this site was designed with the singular impetus of expressing my thoughts, sentiments, shock and even repulsions. He’s regressive health, the subtle incriminates of deterioration and skeletal physicality attested too by a concerned sibling only compounds my revulsion for this nebulous disease. When I was informed of the regression of my friend my respiration felt moderated, my hands began to shack involuntary and coherent speech became negated by this concession.
I’m generally adverse to the pandering lectures associated with such sensitive posturing, especially when it involves the big “C”. But you don’t realise just how shocking its effects are until the evident lapse of life is so abusively severed. When cancer afflicts someone you aren’t intimately affiliated with, you understand that it is an admittedly tragic affair, but one of vapid continuity. You hear about it every day, so why should we take any notice? But such ignorant frivolity is rendered obsolete when it affects someone you do know. It’s no longer amorphous swelling or a scourge for other people to contend with, it’s a fully formed incubus. Its your mother, your father, your brother, your sister. It’s the most indiscriminate form of discrimination you could ever imagine! I’d like to divulge some poignant profession or apply some profound, philosophical exertion and discern the fragility of mortality; but I can’t. It’s just sad, shocking and wholly unfair that such an irreparable condition has afflicted such civil gentleman. A man whose business and assets are now in liquidation, and a man who will never mould my hair into something vaguely manageable as we discuss our mutual alliance with the same underachieving football team. But most sad of all is that his family will soon be deprived of a brother, an uncle, a father, an incredibly amiable gentleman and that I myself will lose a friend. It may seem callous on my part to compose a eulogy before his imminent passing, but selfishly I don’t think that my brain would’ve have been sufficiently adept enough to retain such a harrowing narrative. I can only hope that your passing will be painless, for both you and for your family. You will be missed mate. Cheers.