Tony F., brother, friend, band mate…not always in that order.

“For all the memories I have of Ivan, it still haunts me that this is the one I remember most clearly. I love Ivan. I love the life he lived, and the time that I was blessed to spend with him. His character was astounding, and in spite of the troubles he had, it continued to shine, even in his darkest moments.”

 

 

Ivan sat upright in his hospital bed. Kaitee sat at his side, his left hand, the one not hooked up to a myriad of IV cords, was held tightly in hers. They watched in silence as we, his closest friends and family, filed into the room.

            Tommy and I went in first, followed quickly by Brady, his dad, and Momma. Within five minutes Chris entered, his eyes already red and welling with tears, seemingly knowing what Ivan was going to say. Finally, Marcus who had flown in just hours earlier, as Ivan had refused to tell family anything without our adopted Papa by his side, and that was the position he took, opposite Kaitee. He gave Ivan a fatherly squeeze on the shoulder. This signaled that the family was assembled and Ivan could continue when he was ready.

            Ivan paused to breathe, obviously trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. He squeezed Kaitee's hand for strength, and caught a reassuring wink from the distressed Chris.

            Ivan cleared his throat and began.

            "Thank you all for coming like I asked." He paused to breathe again, blinking back tears. "This isn't easy...but it seems nothing in this adventure we've had together has been. At least it keeps things from getting dull." He attempted a smile, and we attempted one back.

            He cleared his throat again turning serious. "Ever since they diagnosed me again, a month or so ago, I feel like I've just been negotiating with God for time. And the more I've thought about it, it feels like that's all it’s been, a big waiting game. A year here, two there, just waiting until the grace period is over and it catches up with me. I can't live like that anymore."

            He paused again, choking on tears, "I love you guys, all of you, everything about you, and more than anything...I can't bear the thought of not being able to hug and talk to each one of you every day. But that loss would be small in comparison to the gain...to gain a life without pain, without doctors and needles and not knowing if I'll get to say I love you one more time."

            He stopped to wipe his eyes, trying not to look at the rest of us. "I'm not giving up, but I can't negotiate any more. I can't take more treatment just to deny the inevitable. So I want to stop. Give the control back to God, the only one who really knows what's good for me."

            I remember looking around the room, through my veil of tears. Chris held his face in his hand, crying. Brady stood still, hands in pockets, staring at his feet, while Cory held Momma around the shoulders. She was amazingly calm though, almost looking relieved. Kaitee had silent tears running down her face, but she remained ever faithful and supportive at Ivan’s side. Papa Marc had reached over and taken Chris in his arms, Chris towered over him and I couldn't see his face. Tommy, my brother, stood next to me, tears down his face, his arms folded, and nodding, knowing what Ivan said was the truth and we had no choice but to support him, as if we could do any less.