There seems to be two types of death; the one you expect and the one you don’t. The one you expect is typically drawn out, preceded by prolonged illness and visits/stays in the hospital. The one you don’t expect …well, that one is unexpected.
A few weeks ago Miguel ‘bailed’ on a gig he booked. He could of done it, but he complained about it being hard to breathe at times …which of course would impact his singing. He got Victor as a replacement and the gig went ahead as usual. He showed up at the function just to check in on us – he felt that he let us down by not being there, wanted to make sure things were alright and wanted to be a part of something that was all his doing.
Last weekend he did the same thing. He was going to go into the hospital for a few tests and some minor surgery …but small complications arose and he had to get Marco to sub for him. He still wanted to be involved of course, calling us from the hospital to make sure things would go smoothly …his wife Monica taking care of the traveling details, giving me pre-made cheques to pass out to the guys, giving me the appropriate wardrobe and sound equipment that we needed to get the job done. I called her after we finished the gig, which she had asked me to do, but I strangely only received her answering machine. I had expected someone to be home. I left a joyful message about how fine the gig went, how everyone was happy and how I’d give her a call next week after my trip to arrange a time to drop off Miguel’s stuff.
I’ve got a bunch of gigs and some rehearsals booked with Miguel throughout July and August. He also was wanting to work in a new trumpet player. I’m sure there were other things he had in mind too.
Not anymore though. I got a short email from someone saying that he had died in the hospital at 4 am a few nights ago. I haven’t talked to Monica since I left the message on their machine. I still have to get home from Saskatchewan. I still have to drop off a load of sombreros, mexican jackets and percussion toys.
His death was one unexpected.
