A friend of 33 years died of cancer on August 8. He was 54 and diagnosed in February – seemed like no time at all. He suffered as the cancer attacked his nerves. He was released from this.
He taught me how to make omelets…I didn’t know how to cook then. He also taught me how much fun alcohol could be and he led me to believe that credit cards were a good thing. His life was full of friends and parties. It was a problem at the hospital because EVERYONE thought they were his best friend. That was just the way he made people feel.
A generous soul always. He shared what he loved and gave what he could. Our first Christmas, he gave me a huge asparagus fern. It brought cheeriness to my messy apartment. I smile thinking of the day he delivered it – a plant bigger than his head. When Neil Diamond came out with a new album, he brought me to his house and sat me in the middle of the living room, turned the album on and shared his enjoyment with me. A box of letters from him and photos is in my closet along with a collection of hillarious Christmas cards featuring photos of him and his wife. At Christmas, we’d gather around their piano singing Christmas carols while he played for us.
He was a talented photographer and artist. As an electrician, he turned the jobs he did into projects that were works of art.
Today, we’re celebrating his life at a rec center near his home. I’m making easy chicken divan, a comfort dish that he used to make for us. He loved fat – cheese, ice cream, butter. He loved vodka and beer and cigars.
Farewell, you crazy bastard!