DAVID MYCOFF
I learned today about David MyCoff’s death on Sunday. I had heard the week before that he was sick but with no more information. It turns out the three weeks ago he was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. He died so suddenly.
I didn’t know David well. He loved the theater and acted in plays whenever he had a chance. He took summer student groups to London to attend plays. He was a big man, a presence in any room that he was in. He didn’t seem to suffer fools gladly and, since I was often a fool, I was very careful around him.
But his death, death itself, stuns me. I am guessing that he was in his late 70’s. Dying at 70 or 80 or 90 is not a surprise. But dying itself is a mystery. So many of my good friends and family have died and the death of my wife Kathe 3 1/2 years ago, also with only three weeks warning, was also a shock. How can people who are so alive, so much a presence, simply not be here any more? I am in my late 80’s and know my own death isn’t far away. It seems impossible that I can be alive today, typing away here, and dead tomorrow. But it won’t be a shock to me when I die and I won’t be aware of my own absence, although realizing it now makes me realize that I am one of the living dead, one of the soon to be dead who is still alive.
It is all an enormous mystery that David’s unexpected death reminds me of again, that makes me pause and wonder.
BILLYBABA’S WANDERING 