Puck’s Blog

It’s a very rare thing when I don’t have something to say on a subject when I need to. I like to think I’m a wise, well-spoken person who has the ability to say what needs to be said.

But with the news from Brad Stewart today, and to be honest, for the last few years, I’m at a loss for words.

Some background:
Brad & I met in college theatre. Our senses of humour meshed very well and we became close friends. He and I (and Mike O’Donnell) played Champions every week for quite a while.

Brad & I formed The Robin Goodfellow Players improv theatre group together and for a while we were doing regular, well-received shows at corporate functions, wedding receptions and schools. Brad’s then-girlfriend Tanya was the other founding member, but eventually she went to Japan to teach English.

Brad racked up far too much in long-distance charged keeping in touch with her on the phone over the months she was away (Six? Memory fails me), and eventually was able to get his own job out there so they could be together again. I was on Brad’s hide-a-bed in his room (he was in his real bed — we weren’t THAT close) the morning after his farewell party when he called her in Japan to surprise her with the news he was coming out. I heard him say “WHAT?” as she broke up with him and I was there to console him and talk him through it.

He left for Japan anyway. He’d quit his job and sold his car and really had no other choice.

He came back after a few years, and our friendship renewed, though I was in a down-period in my life and we didn’t see each other much. I blame my lazy-ass-then-self (meeting Mel fixed all that, btw).

Brad eventually met Danara, who was beautiful and friendly. They got married quickly and Danara was pregnant. Checkups for her pregnancy showed that she had a growth on her liver, which was found to be cancerous.

What do you say to friends who tell you this? I couldn’t find the words.

Brad & Danara faced a huge decision: Operating on the cancer would mean losing the baby, but waiting for it to be born could mean the cancer would grow too much and Danara wouldn’t survive. They chose to risk it, and their daughter Hope was born prematurely in June of 2000.

Danara’s tumour hadn’t grown and the treatments began. I’d occasionally hear from Brad via email with updates on her status. She seemed to be doing well. We somehow miscommunicated and I couldn’t get in touch with Brad to invite them to our wedding (despite emailing and leaving messages on his cell phone!) which afterwards he tried to make me feel guilty about (but failed! Messages were left!)

And now I get the news from Brad. Danara succumbed to her cancer today.

And what can I say, Brad? I wish I was there for you more. I wish I could say the right things, if there even WERE right things to say. I wish I could handle this like I’ve finally learned to handle everything else these days.

This whole situation makes me feel like one of those dreams where you’re falling and falling and have no control and there’s nothing to do but try to cope with the vague sense of fear about the whole situation.

I’m sorry, Brad.