Death is the price we pay for progress
I just learned tonight that my friend Sal, who've I've written about a few times here, has died of cancer. I've been trying to visit him on a regular basis, the last being a few days ago, after he was moved to hospice and was too tired to watch the soccer games I taped for him; I knew it might be the last time I saw him alive when he didn't want to watch Manchester United versus Manchester City.I have sort of an odd relationship with death, it's much different than many other peoples. I mourn differently. I will miss him terribly, but I'm not a crier (and I am about many other things, which makes it odder). I once heard the phrase, "Death is the price we pay for progress" and it makes sense. Death is also a reminder to hold and cherish what we have, because everything is fleeting; if you're lucky, it'll be a long time down the road, but sometimes it can come and shock you.
Sal's illness was a shocker. Although the cancer might have been around for some time, the symptoms were sudden and drastic; he went to the hospital, unable to walk; and found that the cancer had metastasized to other parts of his body. He was positive and upbeat, and the treatments seemed to go well. He was discharged from the hospital after a little more than a week, but then went sent back the next day, and admitted to hospice.
I started playing soccer late; I watched throughout my childhood, but never started playing until I was an adult; Sal reffed the leagues I played in (the ones I'm reffing now), and I think more than anyone else, he was the face of the league. He remembered everyone (even me before I picked up the whistle), and was keenly interested in all levels of play, including the league full of overweight bumbling hacks like myself. He loved it, he lived it, and yet I didn't even realize until now, reading his obituary, just how far he'd played it himself. He played in the 1956 and 1960 Olympics and even was a professional player (probably in El Salvador). I can't imagine being that humble.
I've heard that the league I'm in is planning a yearly tournament in his name. I think it would be fitting. I also need to find where he bought his pants, because I think it would also be fitting, in a way he'd enjoy, if we all reffed in those, like he did, next week.
Here's his obituary: Salvador C. "Sal" Sanchez
Sanchez Salvador "Sal" C. Sanchez, age 62, of Mpls. Born April 3, 1942 in San Salvador, El. Salvador, Central America and raised in San Francisco, CA. Loving husband, father, grandfather and friend to many, died suddenly of cancer on Nov. 13, 2004. Sadly missed by wife, Mary Jo; sons, Anthony (Sherry) Sanchez of Adrian, MI, David (Kristen) Post of Overland Park, KS, Jonathan Post of Phoenix, AZ; daughters, Gina (Don) Sims of Roseville, CA, Jane (Tim) Snider and Audra (Tom) Tooke of La Crosse, WI and Stephanie (Erik) Lindemeier of Montgomery, MN; 17 grandchildren, Christopher and Lauren Sims, Erin, Alan and Natalee Collins, Jeremy, Joshua, Chelsea, Jordan, Tyler, Josiah and Ryan Snider, Katie Tooke and Miranda Sylvander; sisters-in-law, Susan (Warren) McCurdy of Reedstown, WI, Claire Amanno of Mindocino, CA. Preceded in death by parents, Salvador and Eugenia Sanchez and sister, Gloria Sanchez. Sal was a professional soccer player (Olympics 1956 & 1960) and a referee for City Sports Connection Co-ed League of Twin Cities and for Mpls High School and Junior High varsity teams. His generous heart and spirit touched all those he knew. Special friends, Don (Loretta) Jerome , Lorraine Braaten, Val Capels, Carol Johnson, Victoria Regules, Dick (Maxine) Sorenson, Ron (Helen) Komer; Model A Ford Club Bob Nelson and Henry Swanson; CSC Sports Pat and Matt, Katie, Tony and Rochelle and neighbors, Moises (Rosa) Revera, Sylvia Riley of Mpls, Jim (Christina) Copeland of Belleville, MI; childhood friend, Ric Olivas of San Francisco, CA and many, many more. In lieu of flowers memorials preferred. Interment Woodlawn Cemetery, La Crosse, WI. Service Tuesday, 7:30 pm with visitation beginning at 4 pm at The Lutheran Church of the Master, 1200 69th Ave. N., Brooklyn Center. Washburn-McReavy 763-537-2333
Published in the Star Tribune on 11/15/2004.