The Rapscallion preps his exit

Talk about heavy. I've known Dave for several years now. I received this from Marco today, and it sums up how I feel about life and death. It's never easy losing one of the tribe, as our surfing culture truly is. These people ARE our family, our support network, our life, our enthusiasm and stoke. Read on, and Dave, we'll always love you and cherish the times we spent getting to know you and bringing out a better side in all of us.

Much love,

Woody

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As you all know, Dave Russell has been fighting a rare form of thyroid cancer for more than a year. Last June, he underwent surgery to remove tumors in his neck and shoulder, followed by a round of radiation at the end of summer. Neither of these treatments was able to remove all of the tumors from his body, so last fall he began an experimental chemotherapy trial specifically designed to slow the spread of his particular type of cancer. Needless to say, this treatment failed as well.

Dave is currently facing his last days, if not his last hours. He is at home with his wife, Megan and his sister, Julie. He seems peaceful, and not in pain. While Dave and Megan chose to face this challenge largely on their own, with only family and a few friends privy to the full extent of Dave’s condition, it seems appropriate that those who know him understand where he is at now.

When I met with Dave this afternoon, I promised him that I would tell all of you how much he loves you and appreciates the memories of spending time with you. Though Dave’s condition is such that he can no longer speak or render much of any cognizable sign of understanding, I had little doubt that he has come to terms with the life he’s lead, and that he wants everyone to know that everything is ok.

Though not really aware of his quickly declining condition (in denial, myself), in the last few weeks I did have the opportunity to discuss with Dave his feelings and fears about the future. More than anything, despite the cliché, Dave was thankful for his friends. At a very young age, Dave was estranged from his mother, father, and siblings, and was raised by his grandparents. When I first met him a few years ago, and at various times throughout our friendship, he would remark that not having a traditional family, and then later losing his grandparents, caused him at a pretty young age to see the true benefit of surrounding himself with people he cared about. Above all, Dave has lived his life with the understanding that all we really have in this world of value is our time, and the ability to give it to meaningful people and meaningful causes. And as we all know firsthand, Dave lived out this understanding with an almost absurd amount of energy.

I know Dave is afraid. It is impossible to face death the way he is and not be. But I’m confident that he’s ok with it. Last month, he told me that when he first found out he was sick, the fear strangled him, and he didn’t know how to react. The thought of dying was just too overwhelming. But once he had his surgery, and later his radiation therapy, he said he would sometimes find himself awake at 3 or 4 in the morning, with splitting pain in his head and neck or sick from the morphine, and he’d understand why older people with cancer just reach a point where they give up and take their own lives. Fighting through those times, and refusing to give up then, he had no choice but to realize where his condition was headed, and that he would have to cope with the knowledge of his own death. It was simply inevitable. It seems to me he reached the point where he stopped focusing on the fear of losing his life, and instead became sad that he would be lost to his friends. No regrets, no remorse, just a bummer that life can deal a hand with no silver lining.

At this point, I don’t know how else to put it, other than to say that Dave is thankful for the life he’s had, he loves you all, and he feels loved. Dave used to tell me how he feels sorry for people who die without living. Dave knows and has experienced the love of an amazing wife, the joy of establishing relationships with his sisters after years apart, the affection of so many friends, the stoke of a glassy wall on a twinzer at the Cliffs, the head-rush of a powder run at out-of-control speeds, the electricity of foreign cultures, the beauty of good art, and the preciousness of Mother Earth. As he said himself just before Christmas, “For someone with less than 40 years under my belt, I sure packed in a lot.”

Please, after reading this, take a quiet second and wish Dave your most positive thoughts as he embarks on his next journey; tell everyone around you how much you love them and care about them; and don’t forget to live.

I’ll be back in touch in the coming days or weeks as additional information becomes available about the Rapscallion.

-Marco