It’s A Loss For Us All

I got an email from a very dear friend of mine last night to notify me that her mother had died the previous Saturday evening. I met Mary in October of 1981 and have somehow stayed in touch with her through all the garbage I’ve gone through in the last 25 years. From the moment we met it was like we were family. We’d hang out after work with other coworkers and developed a very close friendship.

I remember the very first time I met Mary’s mother. Funny, now that I think of it, I don’t even remember her first name. I always called her Mrs. Campbell. I was invited over to Mary’s parent’s house and while there was introduced to both parents. When introduced to Mrs. Campbell I was informed that she had just had oral surgery and as she greeted me I noticed that she had no teeth. Actually, I’m not sure if she had none at all, but she was missing quite a few. She was so uninhibited about it that we all started laughing. It was the beginning of a feeling of family and friendship with an entire family that, even though I haven’t seen a number of them in over a decade, I know I’d still be as welcome as if I lived next door. Every time I would see either of Mary’s parents they would treat me as if we’d known each other forever. The warmth generated by these people should be the standard by which love for others is measured.

Once, when I was meeting either Mary or her brother Tom at their parent’s condo, as I was walking through the parking lot I saw Mr. Campbell. Again, I do not remember his first name; we always called him the Colonel. I yelled out a greeting to him and as he turned around he asked who it was. I said my name and his response was “My Kevin?” Like I was one of his children. I had to be about 26 at the time and I’ll tell you, I felt like one of his. Bottom line, these were good people and raised good kids.

I worked with Mary’s brother Tom for a number of years and we always had a good time and would go out after work. We would often go to Tijuana to bet on sports and horses. My roommate at the time was their cousin Brian and any type of family event for the Campbell’s would include an invitation to both of us. Out of the other siblings I also had a friendship with two of her sisters, Jane and Stacey. Again, though I haven’t seen some of these people in over ten years, I still think of them often and always hope to be in touch with them again.

I, thankfully, have not had to deal with the loss of a parent. I’ve had a few friends that have, along with my ex wife, and I always wonder how they deal with it. I think when things like this happen to us we all feel a little older. It’s like we’re not the kids anymore. It’s one more thing that chips away at that child inside I’ve written about before. Though I haven’t seen Mrs. Campbell in a number of years I know I feel a little older after getting the news of her passing. I also know that she would hope that we do everything we can to relight that fire that is that kid and never lose sight of the fact the she loved us all. So I say to all the Campbell children, and especially the Colonel, My thoughts are with you. I love you all and may this pain pass quickly. Trust me on this, I know I’m not the only one that has had similar experiences with your family and those that were fortunate enough to know her and all of you feel the same.

The Biggest Lesson Of All

I went to a funeral today. Strangest thing, I haven’t seen the guy in just less than 30 years and I feel like I lost a really good friend. I met the guy just after I moved to Oak Park when I was 11. He was a friend of my brother David for a few years. When I got into High School we started to blend into the same crowd and we would often see each other on weekend nights and at school. We’d also hang out at the “teen center” where we could smoke and play pool and ping-pong. I found it cool that his name was David Todd and so was my brothers.

We would party together and just hang out but I don’t think I was ever alone with the guy. I guess you could say he was just this side of an acquaintance. That doesn’t sound right, he was part of the gang. I couldn’t tell you his likes and dislikes or the things he liked to do, I just plain didn’t know him that well. I think that can be said about a lot of people’s friends in High School. So why is his death making me feel so empty inside? Well I think there are a couple reasons for that.

The first is that I still see David as he was. 17 or 18 years old and full of life. I see him the way he was when he and I, along with two other friends drove down to Cedar Pointe in the summer after my senior year. We stayed in a hotel for the evening and did the things that 18 and 19 year old kids do when they’re off on their own. Kids like that should never die. They’re supposed to live forever, at least that’s the thought when you’re that age.

Reason number two is much more basic. He was, as I stated earlier, one of the gang. A peer. It brings the fear of aging and the possibility of life ending right to the forefront. That’s just plain uncomfortable.

The funeral itself was much more emotional for me than I thought it would be. It was a graveside service so, as usual; I got there very early. I thought it very important that I go for the basic fear that I didn’t know if any of the old gang would be there. I was just walking around the site all alone. I guess you could call it meditating about life and all it’s questions that can never be answered.

The limo arrived with the casket and as the guy from the cemetery got out I asked him if I was in the right place. I was. I waited a few more minutes and asked him if he knew what had happened, how had David died? He said he hadn’t seen the paperwork so he didn’t know. The family started arriving and everyone was talking to each other and expressing condolences. I didn’t know anyone so I just stood off to the side and waited.

My friend Mark showed up and I felt a little more comfortable and then two other guys I knew from High School arrived. At least I had someone to stand around with. I joined them while they went to the family and we all gave our condolences. I introduced myself and was met with a familiarity from David’s sisters. Partially because my Brother was his friend and also because my last name was relatively well known during my High School years.

After the service was complete we hung around for a bit and two of David’s sisters approached me and we chatted for a bit. They asked how I knew David and I explained that. We talked about David for a bit and I told his younger sister that I felt horrible but I had to ask what happened. She told me that they found out about his death a day after he died and explained that the autopsy found clogged arteries and things of that ilk. She mentioned how sad it was that David had finally straightened himself out and had been clean for eight months and then this had to happen.

They both asked where I was living and when I said East Lansing they both expressed surprise at how far I drove to get there and asked me why I did it. I started to choke up a bit and told them how important I thought it was that someone from that stage in his life was there and I wasn’t sure who else would show up. They both reached out for me and held my arms and told me how sweet that was. I felt so odd being comforted by two women who had just lost their brother but I think my explanation helped them too. They introduced me to a couple of their friends and told them what I had said so I think it was a good thing.

I spoke to Jill, the younger sister, for a short time and she expressed the usual regrets about not knowing him better and how she wishes she had called him more often. I told her how natural that feeling was and told her my story of moving to Florida and looking up a number of my old friends and staying in contact with them. Most of those friends are you guys reading this right now.

I learned an important lesson from today’s events. I learned that I did the right thing by looking you guys up. I learned, even more than I thought, how important your friendships are to me. The same goes for my Brothers and Sister. I love all you guys and I don’t ever want you to forget it. Without you all I am nothing inside. In a post a few weeks back I asked of a certain family I knew, “How did they breathe?” the answer for me is easy. It’s all of you and I promise to thank my stars everyday for the rest of my life for the knowledge I gained today from a grieving Sister.

So Long My Friend

My friend died today. No, not really my friend, my brother died today. Well, see, he wasn’t really my brother either. What is true is there was a time in my life when I thought there would never be time when he wouldn’t be a major part of my life. I do not remember ever not knowing him.

Ronnie and his brother Buzzie, real name Brian, lived next door to me from my first memories until I was either three or four. They and their Mother lived with their Grandmother. Ronnie was David’s age and Buzzie, mine.

After they moved away we would see them most weekends, as they would come to visit their Grandparents. As we got older and my family moved away I may have seen them another two or three times and that was it.

I was relatively well informed about their lives over the years because Karen is still very good friends with their Aunt and they would stay in touch on a regular basis. I was told things like when Ronnie joined the Navy and when he got out and things like that. I heard, a number of years ago, that Ronnie had cancer. I then heard, later, that he was alright and things were going much better for him.

I last saw Ronnie at my sisters wedding. He came as the guest of his Aunt. He sat at our table and we talked a bit. I feel pretty bad about it now because I don’t really remember what we talked about. I think he was divorced and he may have had kids. It was nice to see him. Though we hardly knew each other we still had that memory of childhood. That memory of thinking we’d be around each other forever. The feeling that we’d also be alive forever.

We all know that last statement is the biggest misconception we have as kids. The cancer came back and the poor guy had been fighting it and fighting it until he just couldn’t fight any more. I don’t know what type of cancer Ronnie had or any idea what he went through these last few years and I’m not proud of that. I know that as a child of three or four he was the toughest guy I knew. I have the feeling he was just as tough in this final battle he went through.

This is the first death, for me, that’s in my peer group. One of “my gang” I guess you could say. I suppose these things will become more and more common as I get older. I find it kind of strange that the first to die was also the first I knew.

I don’t know if I can really call Ronnie a friend but I will. I’m also not sure about calling him my brother, but I will. Of course my thoughts are with his Mother, Father and the rest of the family. I’ll definitely be going to the Funeral and I’m sure it’ll be really strange but I think all of us are going to go so that’ll help.

Of course I now have the regrets of not talking to him more than I did at the wedding and not calling when I heard he was sick again. I hope he understood. I miss him already and I hardly even knew him. I know there’s guilt about that too.

So Ronnie, rest easy my brother. You don’t have to fight anymore. You deserve the break. I’m sorry I didn’t know you better but life does that to people. I did know you well enough to call you my friend and I’m all the poorer for it today because I’ve lost my friend today.

A Death In The Family

My uncle died the other day. I wasn’t very close with him, really didn’t know him at all. He was my Father’s brother in law, his sister’s husband. It wasn’t unexpected as he had been ill for quite a while.

The funeral is today. It’s very strange to wait so long because in the Jewish faith the funeral is always held the day after death, unless it’s the Sabbath, then it’s held the following day. The stated reason for the delay is to let the out of town family time to get there. It turns out that my Mother and I are the ones traveling the furthest and we’re only an hour and a half away.

I think what they’ve done here is try to make it more of a convenience for everyone instead of the opposite. I guess I can understand that but this is a family that, at one time, had at least one of their kids Bar Mitzvah at an orthodox synagogue. Seems strange to me.

Along with that is the idea that they have asked me to be a pallbearer. Of course I said yes but this too is very strange. See, in the Jewish faith there are a number of tribes. I don’t understand the whole thing but the tribe my male bloodline belongs to is called Cohanim (sp). Again, excuse my lack of thorough knowledge on the subject, but the Cohan’s are like major big guys in the faith. We are supposedly direct descendants of Aaron, the brother of Moses. I have no idea how they figured that out but some of the things that go along with this is the idea that we are never allowed to be in the same room as the dead, that we are not allowed to be pall bearers and are not allowed to set foot into a cemetery. I guess it’s the walking among the dead thing. I don’t get it but it’s something you learn as a kid. I’ve been in cemeteries before but always felt a bit weird about it.

Like I said earlier, I really didn’t know him that well. When we were young we would see their family on a regular basis, they lived in Detroit and we were in the suburbs. One year David and I spent the summer with them when Mom had surgery. Even during those times I can honestly say I probably never said more than three or four words to the guy the whole summer. There were no bad feelings or any kind of fear of him or anything like that; we just never got to know each other. I knew my aunt and their three kids real well but not him.

I feel sad for my aunt; they had to have been married for well over 50 years. And my cousins, of course, have lost their father and that can never be easy.

My Dad won’t be there, he thought it more important to fly to the Virgin Islands with his girlfriend I don’t know much about what’s left of that side of the family but I’m sure they’ll be there in good numbers. I just find it strange that they would want me to be a pallbearer.

That side of the family has always felt that we were much closer with them than we are and I think that’s what’s dictating what’s happening here. I feel no need to let them know how close our side feels we are to them. It’s not that important. I’ll be there to provide whatever it is they think I can and nod at the appropriate times when we discuss how close the family is and how much we all miss each other.

So I’ll spend today with my Mother and take a few hours out of my normal football Sunday to be with people, that without today’s event, I would probably never see again. It’s one of the things you do when you are part of a family and I think, more importantly, it’s the right thing to do.