GUY
It’s hard to write about an old friend who died. Twenty-four years of
emotional investment in someone who left and will not come back. That may
sound selfish and self-indulgent but that’s what death does; it makes you focus
on your loss instead of your friend.
The more generous point of
view is what a good friend he was and I shall not forget him or his kindness to
my family as well as to me.
This is the time to
remember; his birthday is in two days. The last one he lived to see was
77, in 2010.
Our friendship started
while we were working in the same organization. We were both smokers back
then. It was still legal to smoke in buildings but we had the then-new
idea of a designated smoking area. That’s where we got to know each
other. We had a lot more in common than smoking. We both loved
movies, especially old movies. We both loved music. We would “dish” about
how few people cared about good grammar. Once we agreed that we were
editorial snobs, we would turn to each other as back-up reviewers of our drafts
for our separate departments. There were lots of opportunities because our
organization produced a lot of printed materials: letters, newsletters,
booklets, training materials and more.
He was the superior editor,
but I didn’t mind. Even in recent years, I asked him to review drafts of
mine.
His birthday is not the
only time I think of him. December 7 always stands out –because that was
the day of my going-away party at work. I always joked that my farewell
was far more important than Pearl Harbor. He always acted amused.
I sadly thought it would be
a real goodbye when I left that job, but I did see him once more when I went
back to NYC. I visited him only for a short time, as it was a business
trip.
We talked occasionally on
the phone but, as his hearing got worse, it was pointless. We emailed
almost daily for a few years.
I also think of him when I
see the name of a hardware store chain that matches his. I think of him
when there is a funny or unusual street name. I think of him when tennis
starts (I don’t watch tennis, but he did). I think of him when I watch old
movies. I think of him when I read jokes – especially puns – that I am sure
would evoke a chuckle from him. I think of him…too often.
Guy had a sort of
passive-aggressive, self-deprecating attitude. I’m not sure he knew how
much some of us loved him. Maybe it is easier if you live alone to
convince yourself that no one cares. But, surely, the consistent caring
came through to him – it must have. I have to believe it did.
He never knew I sent him an
electronic birthday card that last birthday. He was already in the
hospital. He never knew that I wrote him a note, emailed him daily, and
even called a couple of times in my desperate attempts to see if he was
okay. I don’t know why it bothers me that he never knew all this, but it
does.
One reminder in all this
came through very clearly: we should not let a day go by without letting
people know we care – especially if they are alone. Never let
opportunities for kindness slip by – you never know if you have another day
with that dear, beloved friend, the one that no one can replace. The
friend who brings tears to your eyes every time the thought of him comes to
mind.
In spite of my ever-present
sadness, there is gratitude, too, that I met him and we were friends. It
didn’t have to be, but it was. Strangely, it bothers me, too, that he
doesn’t know any of this. I know it, though, and I’m grateful -
sad and grateful, but mostly sad.
Beautifully written. Thanks for sharing and the reminder.
ReplyDeleteLove you dearly and I'm sure he knows.
ReplyDeleteWow. Your writing is wonderful.
ReplyDeletep.p.s. I tried to follow your blog but I got a "discontinued website" message. Do you have a new one?
DeleteThank you so much! Very encouraging.
ReplyDeletep.s. I found your blog and, while I'm not creative, I feel I can relate.
I never tire of your writing no matter how many times I've read it. Hugs moving across space.
ReplyDeleteThank you! That is so encouraging. Hugs right back. :)
Delete