Wow, readers of the family blogs are going to wonder what is going on here. After visiting Dad's cheerful new post about his burial plot and headstone, they probably think the reading can't get to be any more of a downer. Well, have I got news for them!
I typed this out over the last couple of hours. The goal was just to make me feel better writing it down and reading it to myself. I didn't know if it was going on the blog until just now as I pasted it in. My few readers are family and friends, so I saw no harm in sharing. Between the writing and the pasting I omitted a lot of what I wrote. Specifics, mostly- I saw no reason to incriminate myself or others by relating some of our more entertaining anecdotes. Maybe some other time.
As to whether it helped writing it all down, the answer is "I have no idea." I'm sure it didn't do any harm, at the very least.
Anyway, here goes:
As to whether it helped writing it all down, the answer is "I have no idea." I'm sure it didn't do any harm, at the very least.
Anyway, here goes:
I lost a great friend last week. Gone with a phone call.
For a full year Ron had been an emotional and mental
mess. He knew it. Everybody who loved him knew it, too. He was seeing a therapist, he had medication,
he had family and friends all willing to help in any way possible. All of which turned out not to be enough.
I’m no expert in such things, but I think it’s common for
people to feel as if they should have done more in these situations. Thankfully, I don’t feel that way. I don’t doubt there’s more that I and we
could have done, or something we could have done differently, to help. But we did what we could and what we knew to
do, and what seemed right at the time.
If we missed opportunities to help- as I’m sure we did- it wasn’t for
lack of effort or lack of concern. You
just don’t always know what to do, and maybe sometimes there just is no right
thing to do.
Ron and I met at St. X. The first few weeks I knew him as the little
blond kid who pushed Anthony to class in the wheel chair, because Anthony had
broken his leg playing baseball. But
soon we were friends. Jim, Ron, me, Anthony, John, Bob (Alan! Or as
our friend Janet took to calling him, to cover all the bases, ‘Bob-Alan’). Our social circle certainly wasn’t
impermeable- we drifted in and out of other crowds, and others drifted in and
out of ours, but the six of us were frequently together and considered each
other our social base.
Ron and I became even better friends through our college
years (which stretched on and on- I took my time), and even better friends over
the years after that. I’m sure that’s
rare. Young friends often stay friends,
but they don’t often get closer as the years go by. Not these days, anyway. We were in each other’s weddings, we played
hundreds of softball games together, played golf on who-knows-how-many
weekends, played poker, hung out and watched football and basketball. I swam in his pool and played horseshoes and
cornhole in his yard I have no idea how many times.
We debated; always fun, because we agreed about virtually
nothing in the realms of politics, religion, or sports, but never got mad at
each other. That’s pretty rare, too. Once he told me a work friend was saying
something or other negative about atheists and Ron had used me as an example
against his friend’s argument. He said “I have a friend who’s an atheist, and
he’s one of the best people I’ve ever known.”
I don’t know if he was right about that, but I’ll never
forget it and I’ll always appreciate it.
He was a good man and his opinion meant a lot to me.
Ron introduced me to all my friends on the Yogis softball
team. They are my friends because of
him, and I’ve needed them. Thank you,
Ron, for that.
Ron introduced Jim to that team, too, which went a long way
toward healing a breach between Jim and me.
Thank you, Ron, for that. Jim is
a tremendous friend. I like to assume
we would have ended up friends for life, anyway- we’ve been friends for
decades- but I certainly don’t know that for sure. I’ve been glad of our friendship for years, and
now I’m not just glad, I’m also grateful.
Ron was a good friend for a long time. We had stupid juvenile fun together in high
school. We had stupid juvenile fun together in
college, too. We became adults together. We had stupid,
juvenile fun as adults. I guess we
never grew out of stupid, juvenile fun.
When my marriage ended Ron was a good friend in need. Just as later I didn’t always know what to do
for him, he also didn’t always know what to do for me. There wasn’t always something to do. But he was there, willing to help. I thanked him for that, even when he couldn’t
really help. He thanked us, too,
in this past year, even though we apparently we couldn’t really help.
You never know what’s going to happen. I know that, and I knew that already. But I admit I assumed Jim, Ron, and I would
be 75% of many more golf foursomes for many more years. I’m not sure how long it will take to get
used to the new reality.
I’m grateful, though,
for the 27 years I knew Ron. He was a
good and decent man. I was proud to call
him my friend. I am proud to say he was
my friend.