It's a sad day because Frank Glow died last night. He's been through a long and pretty merciless illness, and I guess the stock thing to say at times like these is "at least he's not suffering any longer." But that doesn't ever really address why people have to suffer at all, and seems to overlook the fact that a few more years of no illness or suffering would be the most preferable alternative.
Anyway, the thing that always struck me the most about Frank Glow was how he just seemed to move forward every day on a totally even keel. Never saw him mad, or frustrated, or even sick, before this thing. I attribute that to his being a tunnel rat in Vietnam, and having been shot in the head, taking out his eye. I think after that, you get a lot of perspective and wisdom about what is trivial and what's not. The probability that his illness was a long festering result of exposure to Agent Orange is a damn shame, too. But the very saddest part of all is that he won't get to see his baby grandaughter that Krista is going to have in June.
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