A friend of mine died yesterday. He had cancer, which he survived for years with grace and determination. My reaction to his death surprised me. We knew each other for a year over 30 years ago, but got together at reunions several times, the last one a year ago. He seemed to stride through life like a splendid warrior, facing whatever adversaries he met with confidence. He seemed larger than life. Maybe that's the reason that I experienced his death like a punch in the gut. He was strong, beautiful, and brave, like the classical heroes. He was supposed to be the one who could conquer this terrible opponent. He said he was too stubborn to die, and I believed him. He was a hero to his many friends and his family. I imagine him now in the Elysian Fields, with others who died nobly, in combat with powerful adversaries.