My Friend Ken Manthey Couldn't Handle Pineapple Pizza
Last week, Ken was admitted to Elmhurst Memorial Hospital for pain in his stomach and back. Monday morning, Ken died from pancreatic cancer. It was fast. I spoke to him briefly on Friday. He knew was going to die. We agreed that he would wait until Monday (when I could visit him to say farewell) but he exited almost exactly 45 minutes before I got there.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.