My other sister just called me with awful news. One of the cops I worked with just found out today he has liver and pancreatic cancer. I’m shocked, and sad. Bill worked in Organized Crime when I worked in Narcotics. He also worked the night shift, so we all (me, Abbie, Bill, and whoever else was working nights) spent a lot of time talking and working together. I remember teasing him about how pretty his wife is and why would she marry someone like him. I remember when his first son was born and how proud he was. I wasn’t working with him when his daughter was born, but that was about the first thing he told me the next time I saw him. And now he’s dying. He’s younger than me. His kids are younger than mine. They’re not old enough to lose their dad yet. There should be some sort of law that children can’t lose their fathers (or mothers) until they’re at least 21. Maybe older. (Like 60!) And this kind of cancer brings back such horrible memories of my grandfather’s death when I was 6. Granted that was a long (long) time ago and thing have changed, but pancreatic and liver cancers are just nasty, bad, and ugly, any way you look at it. Like I said. I’m devastated. And sad.