THAT FRAGILE THREAD

I lost my younger nephew on Monday, who died unexpectedly at age 63.  It is painful at my age of 85 to see someone from the next generation pass on before me, and the shock and trauma generated in the entire family are profound.

Alfred was a bear of a man-boy: 6'3", a teddy bear with an ebullient outgoing personality, the proverbial "not-a-mean-streak-in-his-body" type. He had a rollicking sense of humor and loved pranks and gadgets. He was a born salesman whose customers, I'm sure, loved him. He and his wife Liz, whom he married in 1991, never had children but had a series of dogs whom they treated like kids. His nephews, nieces and cousins all loved him because of his outgoing personality.

In his younger days he was a typical product of the 60s and 70s: anti-war, pot smoking, rebellious against the establishment---typical of so many of his generation.  He even ran a head shop in our small town in Ohio. He got involved with some serious drugs early but, to his credit, left that world behind him and got his act together. He went through a couple of bad marriages but found happiness with his third try, Liz, and settled down. He moved to Florida in the early eighties and came to Fort Myers in 1988. He and Liz were married in 1991.

Alf and a partner started an electronics business in alarm systems and audio and video equipment, ranging from home sound systems to home theaters, for custom homes and businesses. It was highly successful, until the crash of 2008 put the kibosh on building of new homes. Still, they struggled along and began to see improvements in the last year. My nephew retired from the business this summer.

One of his outstanding characteristics was his caring nature. His mother-in-law lived with Alf and her daughter for almost ten years, the last few of which she slowly but surely went downhill. Liz had a job that involved a lot of travel, and a great deal of the care and concern fell on Alfred, who unfailingly and uncomplainingly took care of his mother-in-law, who died last fall. It was service above and beyond the call of duty, and I wish I could strike him a medal.

Ten years ago, he had a freak accident: a golfing friend accidentally hit him with his club, which turned out to be a fortuitous happening because X-rays revealed he had a tumor on his pituitary gland in his head. He underwent serious surgery removing the pituitary, but he recovered, and thanks to medication, compensated for the loss of this gland and was able to lead a normal life.

His death was swift. He felt fine on the Saturday; in fact, he and Liz walked the dogs. Then, Sunday morning he awoke with intense pain in his lower abdomen. He stayed in bed the whole day. Liz went into him Monday morning at 9:00 and asked if he wanted a doctor. He said, no, he thought he would be better soon and just wanted to rest some more. At 10:15, she came in and found him comatose, called the medics, who arrived promptly and could not revive him. I'm no doctor, but it sounds like an aneurysm of sorts. Liz will decide whether to have an autopsy or no.

All of us are in pain. Once again, we are reminded of that fragile thread connecting life and death.

God bless you, Alfred. God has gained one of the good ones.