Just Like That . . . .
Yesterday I was driving along in traffic, heading for the freeway out of Berkeley and on toward the "silences of the south." My cell phone rang and just to ascertain whether I should pull over and answer it, I glanced at the number calling, and didn't recognize it. I slipped the phone back into my jacket pocket and kept on driving, happy that the person in front of me was not driving like a zombie.
Traffic flowed nicely and I made it to the freeway without swearing at someone or wishing someone four flat tires. I was intent on getting home in time to get the Little Buccaneer to his swim team practice. Eventually I ran into the mild traffic jam on the interchange between 13 and 580 East. The phone rang again. Same number. I was stopped in the jam, so I decided I might as well find out who it was, thinking to disabuse them permanently of the thought that someone they wanted to speak with was at my number, which I don't give out much.
Lo and Behold! it was the sister of an old friend, whom I hadn't had much to do with for several yeras, but whom I saw around now and then, and now and then he would stop by the office. I knew the news was bad before she said it. I could feel it coming. Why else would she call me? I've never spoken to her or even met her. He suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm on Sunday night and died. Just as she said it, the traffic started to move and I had to hang up. I was stunned, and she was barely holding it together, but said I could call her back on that number. It was his old cell phone and she was calling everyone on the contact list to let them know.
I drove one feeling vaguely breathless with shock. I hadn't seen in him in several months. He was his usual self; tall, slender, a little grayer around the edges and still reminiscent of a large flightless bird. He had a long neck, prominent slightly hooked nose and large eyes. He was brilliant in many ways, and probably had made enough money in business computer applications consulting that he didn't really have to work anymore. He still lived, I think, in the same small apartment across the street from the campus that he lived in as an undergrad in the late Seventies.
Just like that, he winked out. One minute he's here, the next he's gone. I have no details except the cause. I don't know where he was, or who was with him. I called that number back when I got home and his voice was on, giving the greeting for his answering service. It was a strange feeling, and I didn't leave a message. One day I hope to get more information.
As I swam today I kept thinking of it, and telling myself to enjoy everything I have and to try to remember everyday is a great day to be alive. Natural reactions, I suppose. I also wondered what would happen if I suffered that same fate as a I swam. I have resolved as much as possible to keep on that positive tip and impart that to my children.
He was only 53 , I think. Too young to die. He had a lot to give and he gave it. He was a little weird and had a great sense of humor. Just my kind of guy. He could be a moralizing pest at times, but deep down he was a genuinely good and generous person. He cared about people. We need more of those people, not less. Now we have one less, and we can only hope that someone born on Sunday will take his place in that regard.
GPS, RIP 2012
Traffic flowed nicely and I made it to the freeway without swearing at someone or wishing someone four flat tires. I was intent on getting home in time to get the Little Buccaneer to his swim team practice. Eventually I ran into the mild traffic jam on the interchange between 13 and 580 East. The phone rang again. Same number. I was stopped in the jam, so I decided I might as well find out who it was, thinking to disabuse them permanently of the thought that someone they wanted to speak with was at my number, which I don't give out much.
Lo and Behold! it was the sister of an old friend, whom I hadn't had much to do with for several yeras, but whom I saw around now and then, and now and then he would stop by the office. I knew the news was bad before she said it. I could feel it coming. Why else would she call me? I've never spoken to her or even met her. He suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm on Sunday night and died. Just as she said it, the traffic started to move and I had to hang up. I was stunned, and she was barely holding it together, but said I could call her back on that number. It was his old cell phone and she was calling everyone on the contact list to let them know.
I drove one feeling vaguely breathless with shock. I hadn't seen in him in several months. He was his usual self; tall, slender, a little grayer around the edges and still reminiscent of a large flightless bird. He had a long neck, prominent slightly hooked nose and large eyes. He was brilliant in many ways, and probably had made enough money in business computer applications consulting that he didn't really have to work anymore. He still lived, I think, in the same small apartment across the street from the campus that he lived in as an undergrad in the late Seventies.
Just like that, he winked out. One minute he's here, the next he's gone. I have no details except the cause. I don't know where he was, or who was with him. I called that number back when I got home and his voice was on, giving the greeting for his answering service. It was a strange feeling, and I didn't leave a message. One day I hope to get more information.
As I swam today I kept thinking of it, and telling myself to enjoy everything I have and to try to remember everyday is a great day to be alive. Natural reactions, I suppose. I also wondered what would happen if I suffered that same fate as a I swam. I have resolved as much as possible to keep on that positive tip and impart that to my children.
He was only 53 , I think. Too young to die. He had a lot to give and he gave it. He was a little weird and had a great sense of humor. Just my kind of guy. He could be a moralizing pest at times, but deep down he was a genuinely good and generous person. He cared about people. We need more of those people, not less. Now we have one less, and we can only hope that someone born on Sunday will take his place in that regard.
GPS, RIP 2012
posted by Harry at 3:33 PM
6 Comments:
I'm sad about that. Condolences. I think we met many years ago. 53 *is* way too young, and it is very sobering how suddenly our world can change, or how suddenly we might go. Just like that.
Indeed, tomorrow is promised to no one. He was at my bachelor party and thoroughly annoyed about two thirds of the attendees. He seemed to have appointed himself some kind of chaperone. Very strange. I wondered at the time what he thought would happen.
Oh well. As I wrote, deep down he was a great guy. I'm sorry he's gone west.
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I'm sorry about the loss of your friend.
Hi Madame,
Thanks for chiming in and your thoughts. I still haven't sorted it out entirely. I thin about it and hover between profoundly bummed out, and the dawning reality that a new phase of life has been entered.
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