Death Comes In Threes

I believe it.

Three weeks ago, my mother's cousin's husband passed away. It was very sad in that my mom's cousin and her husband loved each other so much and he was too young to let life go. A cancer victim, we first learned about his illness months prior to our wedding and his first treatment was actually the day before the wedding. They attended and put their happiest faces on. And for that I am grateful, but I wish I could have done something to make it all better for him, for her, for them.

Last Monday, as I packed my clothes and toiletries away for the Frankfurt whirlwind, I saw an urgent message from management to jump on a call in less than 15 minutes. My first reaction is that we bought another company and they were officially announcing the news. No, one of our colleagues who I hadn't spoken to more than a few times in his year or so of working at the company passed away. It wasn't sudden as he, too, was sick with cancer. I heard he was having other health troubles and went on disability. He never made it out of the hospital after recently being admitted, but his wife was hopeful as she was told her husband would be able to go home soon. When she left to make preparations at their home, he took a turn for the worse.

And on Monday of this week, as I battled jet lag and the fact that I was back at work after working through the weekend, Bub emailed me that a close friend's father has passed away. Again, to cancer. He'll go to the funeral and memorial services out of state this weekend.

I didn't want to believe that death comes in threes, but they do. They have. And it sucks.