Len and I met several years ago when he was working for his friend Dave's delivery company (he made regular deliveries to my building). He didn't like the job much, but he saved enough of the money he made for a down payment on our house (and he got me, so he made out alright in the end), and he was helping out a good friend.
Dave is one of those people with an outsized personality. He is loud, obnoxious, drunk most of the time, has political views I never agreed with (a conservative libertarian, which has always seemed like a contradiction to me), but he has a huge heart, loves his wife and kids and is very, very funny. He also loved food -- he loved to cook it, drop it in a deep-fat fryer and feed all of his friends (of which he has many). The last time Len and I were at his house he was obsessed with hard-boiled eggs, encased in sausage, rolled in bread crumbs and dropped in the fryer. He wasn't exactly a healthy eater.
He lost his appetite a few months ago. Last Monday he went in for a colonoscopy. Yesterday his wife was told that the cancer he'd been harboring for who-knows-how-long had spread throughout his body and he doesn't have long to live. Len went to the hospital and Dave has quite wasted away.
What else is there to say? We are floored. And heartbroken. And I really hate the idea of going to another funeral of someone much too young to die.