A long walk for a departed friend, by Suzanne Bobo at the Kodiak Daily Mirror

In the Jewish tradition, the story is told of two friends separated when their kingdoms waged war on one another. One friend braved the political environment and visited the other friend. The king learned of the foreigner’s presence in his kingdom, and the visitor was arrested, imprisoned and sentenced to death by the sword. Accepting that his pleas for clemency would be refused, the man begged the king for kindness: “At least let me return to my homeland, put my affairs in order and say goodbye to my family. I give you my word I will return in one month.”

“How do I know you will return?” the king asked.

“My friend will be my surety,” the man replied, and the friend agreed that, yes, he would stay in the prison until his friend returned and take the sword himself if the man broke his promise.

The king accepted the offer and the man returned to his homeland. On the last day of the furlough, the man had not returned, however, so preparations were made to execute his friend. As the king drew his sword, the man returned, crying: “Spare him: I have come back as promised.” He put his hand on the sword and pulled it to his own neck.

At that moment, his friend replied. “No, let me die for you, for you have been a true and loyal friend to me.” The king was so deeply moved by the selflessness of the two friends he sheathed his sword and pardoned them both. The three men lived the rest of their days in companionable friendship with one another.

One of my favorite stories about friendship, this parable came to mind this week as I talked with people who have watched a friend suffer from the effects of serious illness or injury. Maybe it was a hunting accident. Maybe it is multiple sclerosis. Cancer, perhaps. We all know how devastating it can be to sit by helplessly as our friend loses vitality. We would put the sword to our own neck, gladly, if only that were an option.

But even a sword may show more mercy than an illness. Some friends receive no pardon, nor even a furlough. Death comes too soon and the friend is gone. We are left to wonder why.

“Why can’t we find a cure? Why do we have watch our friends suffer? Why can’t we find the answers we are looking for? Why?” These are the questions Kodiak resident Chris Lyon asked after the death of his friend Ty Cheverier. A husband and father, Ty battled mesenchymal chondrosarcoma, a rare and aggressive cancer of the cartilage, for five years before finally succumbing to the disease in August of 2005 at the age of 34.

Now, Lyon is on a quest to find answers to the question, “Why?” The 37-year-old chef is walking, alone, 3,000 some-odd miles across America to raise funds that will be used to find a cure for the disease that ravaged his friend. Lyon left Kodiak by boat on March 23; he hopes to walk to Connecticut, where he and Ty both grew up, by the end of September. 

When this column prints, Lyon should be strolling into Portland and then on to San Francisco, where he plans to meet with executives from the Sarcoma Alliance. His goal as he strolls is raise money while sharing stories of cancer patients and keeping Ty’s memory alive.

“Ty and I grew up in the same neighborhood,” Lyon told me in an email, “and although in our younger years we rarely hung out, we became great friends over the years to come after high school.  Ty went off to college to play football. He was a strong and fast guy and great at sports in general.” Ty was a father of three boys, Lyon added, “and it was great to see him as a father; the same old Ty just teaching while playing. His fight with cancer was a hard one for him. He rarely let you see him suffer, so strong and determined to win ... A coach of his sons’ baseball teams even while sick.”

Lyon’s adventures so far have been as unforgettable as his friend: he saw Mendenhall Glacier up close, ate halibut tacos in Juneau, posted photos on his blog after arriving by boat in Bellingham, named his blisters in Burlington, celebrated Easter in Seattle, accepted a donation from a homeless man in Mount Vernon, slept at the Plum Duff B&B in Tacoma, where he also was served coffee by a barista wearing a bikini..

Although the donations have been slow to come in, he carries a backpack roughly the size of a Volkswagen, and the trip has been harder than he thought, Lyon wrote on Facebook on April 8, “there is no quit in this kid.” As he travels, he said in the same post, “I think of all you following (my progress) and thank God that humanity isn’t dead. I have to say without your help I would not be able to make this journey.”

As Lyon makes tracks across America, he hopes to inspire others to help him find a cure for cancer. “I wish ... I had my friend back,” he wrote in a post before he left Kodiak. “I wish no one had to suffer. I wish to help in this fight.”

Ty Cheverier’s cousin Ray wrote me in an email, “I think what Chris is attempting is an unbelievable thing. I wish I could do it with him. Just attempting this has blown our family away. You can help Chris Lyon fight the fight: follow him on his blog and/or make a donation at www.alaska2ct.blogspot.com.

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Chris Lyon, chef and free-spirit traveler, in a photo taken before his departure from Kodiak March 23 on a walk across America in memory of a friend. (Photo courtesy of Chris Lyon).