Nick

I got a call this morning from my Momma...I almost always love calls from my Momma...it's just the nature of who she is and who we are. This morning's call...I could have lived without.

When we moved away from Rochester 13 years ago, I gladly came "home." Though I had never lived in the town, if you had asked me where I wanted to raise my kids, I would answer Corning. Just a few miles from where I lived until I was 11, it felt like home. Add to that the fact that Mom and Dad already lived here, and that the church where Dad was hired treated us like family as soon as we arrived...there was very little missing of Rochester that went on, despite living there for 11 years. The thing is...there were people I did miss. People with whom I did not keep in touch. I have few regrets in life. This choice, I regret.

Some of the most influential people in my life stayed in Rochester when I left. People who guided me through my teen years and loved me despite my boy-crazy, giggly, dramatic times. Richard and Gail Means, for example. Listeners. Compassion-givers. Huggers. Sally Lawrence. My mentor. Discipleship partner. The one I confided in when mom and dad just didn't get it...funny how they knew to put her in my life. Nick and Marsha Borys.

Nick and Marsha Borys.

You had to know them to understand my heart for them. Their oldest daughter was one of my best friends all through high school (and two of the other sisters were sweet friends as well). I spent days and days and days at their house in Greece. I permed the girls' hair, straightened it again, danced and giggled to Sweatin' with the Oldies at youth group sleepovers, developed an aversion to shrimp after helping devour something like 20 pounds of it in one sitting at a summer party, whooped it up at cookouts, trick-or-treated (talk about a haul!!) through their neighborhood, listened to Nick's perspective on life and living while he sat in the kitchen and flipped pancakes on the griddle (I think that's an accurate memory)(funny what stays in your mind and what doesn't), giggled with Marsha over boys and Believers and songs and choreography, slept and didn't sleep and helped everyone clean up so I could sleep over. When I got married, Marsha's parents gave us a week at their beautiful home (complete with indoor pool and anything else you could want) in Hilton Head, SC. For Free. Honestly, I think more of my memories from my teen years took place at the Borys house than they did at my own. Or anywhere else, for that matter. I remember more of the Borys' house than I do of school.

Which is why, 20 years later, the thought of losing Nick, even after not being with him, makes me ache.

Nick has battled Leukemia for years, apparently, and about a month ago, the medication he takes for Leukemia caused his body to not fight an infection. He became dehydrated and his blood pressure bottomed out, and they couldn't get it back under complete control. His kidneys began to shut down. They started dialysis. Nothing has really helped. He has been in varying stages of not-doing-well since that point. My parents rushed to Rochester when he was admitted and have kept in touch. This morning, he is on a ventilator, awaiting the arrival of Renee, his daughter, who lives in NYC and will arrive at around 11 to say her goodbyes.

His health has always been touch and go. After a debilitating accident 35 years ago which left his leg virtually destroyed and infection after infection, he spent months in the hospital, years battling his health. I remember wondering how one man could go through so much. But he did. And he lived life with gusto. You never wondered where you stood with Nick--his joy and his frustration showed all over his face. All through his tone. He didn't pull any punches. His laugh echoes in my mind...you have never heard a laugh like his. He was gruff and rough, and he cried without reservation...over his children's accomplishments, his successes or failures, his happiness or his pain. The thought of never hearing that again...after not reconnecting in years...is devastating. My heart aches for Marsha and the kids and the people who will lose him. And though I know with whom he will walk today...I know those who will walk without him. And I will grieve with them.