We were just entering into a new life - after a time of challenge.  My company asked me to relocate to the home office in Ft. Lauderdale.  We moved from a really nice house and downsized.  Sold off furniture, dive gear, and lots of other things.  We bought an RV with the idea of being able to travel around.  

While we were int he process of moving a couch, all of a sudden he heard a snap and fell to his knees in pain.  I completed the move alone, while he was unable to really do much.  Of course, I could not get him to go to the dr.  He was in pain, but tried to finish a job.  He did, but the pain was exhausting. 

For 2 weeks after the job was complete, he spent most of his time in bed.  I was traveling a lot, often gone several days at a time. We would talk a couple times a day, and he would tell me his back really hurt.  He would sleep and take tylenol and aleve -- quite a few actually.  However, I did not realize how much. 

On one trip, I could not reach him and became quite concerned.  Cutting short my trip, I arrived home around 7 p.m. on a Friday night.  He was asleep in bed, so I didn't disturb him other than to give him a kiss. 

The next morning, when I opened the curtains and tried to rouse him, he was lethargic and hard to wake up.  As the light got stronger, I was shocked to see him look yellow.  At that point, fear grabbed my heart and I wanted to immediately take him to the hospital.  Both because of his continuing pain, but now because of his color and seeming to be out of it. 

He begged off going, telling me he would be ok.  Finally, after pleading with him I finally stepped back and held in my worry.  Around 2 that afternoon he finally called me to his bedside and asked me to take him to the hospital.  Because of his pain it was a struggle to get him into the truck, but we did.

We arrived at the ER; I got a wheelchair and we went inside.  After a short wait, we were called back and the ER doctor asked me is he always this color?  I said no.  So they admitted him and began to run tests.  At this point he was aware of what was going on, just in pain. 

The next day, we were introduced to two doctors.  One who ran the hospital - but also the hospice unit and one of the most preimment liver doctors in the country.  We were informed that he would need a liver transplant.  That they were going to try to find out what was wrong with this back, but that his liver was failing. 

While they were trying to find out the source of his pain, it was discovered that he had an infection to his heart.  This was bad news because you have to be free of any infections for at least 6 months before you can undergo a transplant.  The next thing they wanted to do was to find out the kind and source of the infection.  During the course of the tests and MRIs it was discovered that this same infection was the source of his back pain.  A month or so before he got ill, he had an accident on a boat where he smacked his rear end very hard.  Apparently, this had fractured his tail bone, which was the original pain.  A bit of sleuthing discovered that he had a cut, and with his work in the canals, bacteria had entered his system.  As the doctors told me, it went to the weakest point: the fracture.  It has actually been dissolving the bone around the fracture, thus the continual unrelenting pain.  The infection then traveled up to his heart. 

During this time, he went into a coma.  As he began to come out, he had no awareness of who I was, where he was or even of his surroundings in general.  I found out later that the damage to his liver allowed a build up of ammonia in his system which causes brain impairment.  This lasted about a month.  During that time, they fed him through a tube in his stomach.  When he started to come out of the coma, he became comabative and pulled his tubes out several times.  Finally, they had to not have them in and he had to be fed.  He had no clue where he was or who I was for a few weeks. 

Also, during this point, the head of the hospital told me that they wanted to put him in hospice care.  "Hospice Care".  That meant he was dying.  That is the way to tell me.  However, he said that because he needed a transplant, but we had to treat the infection and try to get in him in the best of health.  He committed to active treatment during that time.  They wanted to keep him in the hospital.  I asked him what they would do, that I couldn't.  I assured him that Jeff would be much happier at home.  So, after almost a month in the hospital, I took him home.  For the next nine months, we traveled a new road to a final destination.

W-O-R-K was a four letter word until he was able to get his own business going.  The ability to work for himself was stimulating and rewarding.  Although anyone who workes on boat motors - as he did - realize that they can be frustrating and confounding. 

He liked the sales and interaction with people the most.  The satisfaction and appreciation of his clients meant a lot to him.  His clients were loyal to him and gave him so many referrals.  He took care of them - and they took care of him.  Worked out great! 

He was such a great friend to all.  Friends and family meant everything to him.  He would be the one to call all his friends regularly.  Send birthday presents to each one was always a fun thing for him.

He loved talking on the phone to his friends.  He wanted nothing more than to get his friend Wayne to move to Florida.  He just knew that Wayne would be successful in his musical career if he could get him out of Maryland. 

He absolutely loved his friends Donnie and Alice.  He often measured bass players against the talents of Donnie and said that Alice was such a wonderful friend and that both were lovely kind people.  He was right.  They are. 

He often said that Alan was one of the most together people he knew.  He really admired him.  He told me at the end that he wanted me to find someone like Alan. 

His friends who had passed on or those he didn't see or talk to often was always in his heart and he spoke about them with lots of love.

No one was a stranger.  He made friends quickly.  People really loved him pretty quickly.  He was funny, friendly and outgoing.  I told him he was my social butterfly.  Get togethers was something he loved.  He pulled me out of my shyness to really appreciate that being around people was fun and energizing. 
I regularly try to go out and enjoy people - because of his prodding over the years.  Thank you for that my love. 

His sister Sweetie was his favorite.  Her death hit him hard.  He also blamed himself for his sister Deb's death.  If only he could have convinced her to come live with us, he believed she would not have been killed. 

However, nothing tore him up like his Dad's passing.  From that point on, his sadness was deep.  Not a day went by that he didn't miss his father.  Wally was a generous guy; who took care of family and friends alike.  Jeff took after him that way.

Jeff grew up in Maryland; as he would say, he was a PG boy.  His mother died when he was quite young.  It haunted him because he always believed that because he chose to live with his dad that his Mom died of a broken heart.  He blamed himself for her death and also felt he should have been able to save his brother from his demons. 

He told me many stories of his childhood, school and life in general.  He loved to play golf.  His Dad taught him.  He would be out on the links with his dad and his father's friends.  By 12 he was quite the "goofer" as he call it. 

When I visited his childhood home once, he showed me the hill they would sled down in the winter.  He told me so many stories that made me laugh out loud.  What a funny guy he was.  Sweet is the perfect word.