The Death of a Friend

I’ve been thinking about doing this for a time.  This is a note I wrote to my friend Sheila. 

I think with Sheila I learned how valuable something (or someone) is when you’ve lost them, whether through death, or irreconcilable differences.

Here’s the note: 

July 2, 2012-07-02

Dear Sheila

It’s now going on 3 years since your death.   I know that the last little while we didn’t have that much contact.  You were growing increasingly ill, I had retired, and further moved back into my life with Ian.  We used to get a laugh out of that...you chided me, made me laugh.  At one point as Ian was enjoying and using my better than his health benefits, you said, “but you’re so lucky Ian took you back.”  (and we sure laughed (bitterly) about that one).

You died while I was living there with him, in October 2009.  My “self imposed Exile,” so to speak.  I went to your funeral alone.  I spoke about you, saying I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.  This turned out to be so true.  I can’t even begin to tell you about the number of times I’d want to call you and tell you the latest goings on in my life.  Times like that, I miss you deeply. 

Funny, you and I could do that....discuss the pros and cons of our lives.  We could do that and be completely honest.  We were so very close.  Although I have other friends, I do not think I will ever be as close to them as I was to you.  

My Dad died in October of 2010.  Heather died in July of 2011.  Perhaps you’ve seen them, from where you are. 

It seemed to me that after retirement, I was quite sad.  My life certainly seemed empty, and nothing replaced the comradeship and social life, not to mention the pay cheques, of my former employ.  It was a dark time for me, those first couple of years.

In 2011 though, things changed for the better.  I moved to Nova Scotia, bought my own place in fact.  I became involved in a number of organizations, and I would sometimes find myself thinking...”Sheila would be so proud.”

Remember when you and I used to joke about moving here?  The place I had in mind for us is actually on this street.  It’s now an apartment building, and it’s even for sale.  God, if only you were here to rent a unit...I tell you, I’d find a way to buy it, and I’d put you up in it.

Being older than you, I was supposed to die first Cheele.  I miss you so much.  Wouldn’t I love to call you up and discuss our lives again!

Although we knew each other for over 25 years, and although we exchanged Christmas cards for about 20 years, we became much closer, I guess about 15 years ago.  Remember, Cheele?  “They say Garson is lovely at this time of year.”  It is but to laugh. 

When I lived in that building on Elm Street, (the first time) I swear, it was not a good experience.  I certainly didn’t miss it.  But the other night, I had this fleeting thought, a memory that floated through my brain.  And I missed those times, and all that went along with it.  Well, not all (think of the time I found a prowler lurking in my car, ha ha), but still, it was surprising.  And in that one fierce moment, I marvelled and wished I had it back.   I‘ve had a few of those moments in my life, times when I wish I could turn back time.  But that is not to be. 

My life here is mostly good.  But please, I pray there is no more death for a time, I’ve lost too many.

SL