It really never is good news when the phone rings at 5:30 in the morning. And on this morning, Mark was already out the door. On the bus to the airport for an early London meeting. I assumed the call was from him. Forget something?
No. The call was from Evelyn. Olof's new wife.
Olof being Mark's good friend from back in early telecom days when they were both freshfaced and new. Olof of Amsterdam. Olof with the gentle eyes and sweet nature who quietly has been in Mark's life as long as I have known him and in Mark's for much longer. Olof who at my first meeting of him got me so drunk on margaritas at Cactus Cantina in 2000 that I called in sick the next day. Olof who showed us the miles and miles of tulips in the countryside of the Netherlands on my first trip over. Olof who charmed and dated my friend Laurie and took who pictures at our Cambridge wedding. Olof who spend last New Years Eve with us in Edinburgh. Olof who has been sick -- far sicker than any of us have known.
Evelyn called to tell us that Olof died this morning. I think he was 40.
He had cancer. Bad. All over. And in 11 months it took over his body.
Mark spoke to him on Sunday. He was hard to understand, but Mark got to connect. Didn't know it was for the last time.
Nothing more to say just now.
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