For Bob. February 26, 2013

The dreaded phone call came that afternoon.  We all know it is coming but find it hard to accept, nonetheless. 

I received a call on my cell from my best friend’s son, Brian. 

Me:  “Hello”

Brian:  “Hi David, this is Brian.  I need to tell you that my dad passed away this morning.”  And I sat there thinking to myself, “Brian?  Who is Brian?  Oh yeah.  His dad passed away.  Oh wait, his dad is Bob.  Bob, my best friend.  The best man at my wedding.  Sh*t

Me:  “Oh Damn.  No way.  Oh my gosh.  I just spoke with him a couple of weeks ago.  Damn.” 

Brian:  “I know.  I spoke with him this morning, before I left for work.  I wanted to call you because he was very fond of you.” 

And so it went.  Brian told me of the circumstances surrounding my friends last few hours of life.  February 26, 2013.  It was horrible news to hear.

I met Bob in 1979.  We were both working the same hotel in Lake Tahoe, Nevada.  I had been there about a month when they re-assigned me from the coffee shop to the New York Deli.  Bob was my co-worker, trainer and possible co-defendant, if they ever found out how much fun we were having (it was like stealing).  Part of the reason it was so much fun was because of Bob.  He had been a good friend for 34 years.  I knew him through two marriages.  I met his family, his brother and sisters, his kids, his wives (well, two of them anyway) and his grandkids.  He was like a father to me.  We shared many common interests.  

Brian had no information about services or even when Bob’s siblings would arrive.   I told Brian I would call him back in two days. 

The next day, February 27, 2013 was our (Nora’s and myself) 25^th wedding anniversary.  I was heartbroken that Bob would not be there to share in our joy and celebration.  Nora and I were planning a second honeymoon trip.  Our trip would take us to within about 150 miles of my friend’s house.  Nora and I decided that we could make the detour, if needed. Plans were meant to be broken.   

But I had tickets to hear Billy Collins speak on the night of February 26^th.  My wife explained to me that Bob was proud of my literary pursuits.  And no plans were made as yet to make me change mine.  I went to hear Billy Collins speak. I felt bad, leaving my family on the night that we received such news.  But Bob was over 500 miles away.  There was nothing I could do for him or his family.  I needed to honor Bob's faith in my pursuits.

The night the news came, Billy spoke of silences.  I thought of the silent news.  The news that makes you silent, the ‘what else are you gonna do’ silence.  The fnord.  The only look that when something is explained to you, it leaves you without words. The surreal acknowledgement that you don’t belong in this moment.  

The ‘100 Chinese silences’, he said.  And other phrases that Billy uttered, caught my ear, and my mind’s heart. 

Tonight I received word that my best friend had died.  Passed away, ceased to enjoy this life.  A man with such joy does not give up life lightly.  There was no sign of struggle.  And that tells me he was done.  Or his body was done, because it just gave up.  It was his time. 

I found out tonight.  And I was asked if I was still going.  Still going to hear a poet I had barely heard of.  Someone I didn’t know.  In my grief, I left my family in theirs, for someone I didn’t know.  But Billy, you helped me.  You said we turn to poetry in the times when we need it.  We turn to it for emotional intelligence.  Poetry is an invitation to slow down.  I was using my escape to a poetry reading as a way to slow down and take an inventory of all that I had and all that I had lost.

 

My wife had known him almost as long as I had; Crazy Old Bob.  I remember all of his jokes. I remember all the old times.
 

The games, every one he lost.  The first time he taught me cribbage, I beat him.  The first time he taught me and Brian to play liars dice, we beat him.  The farkle game that he loved.  I shall never mention that game again.  I don’t know if I can ever play it again.  

I will miss him. I just don't know what to do now. We are going to be in Monterey on Saturday. I don't know when the arrangements are. So sad. I'm going to bed.

d.