My friend has died. I have tried to convince myself that he was just a resident and that our relationship was firmly within the boundaries of old person/caregiver. But that is all rot. He was my friend and it was not his time.
It is strange to so deeply grieve a person no one outside of work knew. To wade through the molasses of grief on my own, with no one to comfort or to be comforted by. When the grief snatches my breath, I push through because the ones who love me best did not know him, do not grieve him.
He was so funny. He was clever, witty, smart, snarky, and sassy. He had a habit of forgetting to glue his dentures in and having to talk around them while they flopped. He was known for his dancing. He snickered and shook when trying to tell a story he thought was particularly entertaining. With one raised eyebrow, he expressed his horror or disbelief or mischief. One quick side-eye and I was hard pressed to keep my composure. His sarcasm was my delight.
He shared his sorrow over never having children and his relief at never remarrying after his one disastrous attempt. He told me about the red-haired woman his grandfather ran away with and the beauty of his mother who died when he was just a teenager. He was dismayed by his own snobbery and impatience with people, and he was quick to apologize when he lost his temper. He was fiercely proud of his twin, even while trying to seem detached.
He spoke his mind. He spoke only the truth and displayed what it looked like to not shrink back. He loved Jesus and sorrowed his own sin and failure. He had a teddy bear he named "Dumb-ass" who made sure to remind him of all the Dumb-ass things he had done in his life. He lived with his pride and his repentance held openly and firmly for anyone to see.
I will miss helping his remake his bed every week because the housekeeper never did it to his liking. I will miss the conversations while he sat in his favorite chair and I sat on his blue velvet sofa with CrimeTV blaring in the background. I will miss his encyclopedic knowledge of Birmingham's Southside. I will miss his sarcastic comments under his breath during every concert. I will miss his go-to phrase of "Oh, hell". I will miss him trying not to smile at my antics and costumes and bad puns. I will miss his tenderness towards his friends, the way he helped them out of their depressions. I will miss his smile and the twinkle in his eyes.
We were three weeks away from him getting to meet Chris. Three weeks away from the Covid booster that would have probably have saved his life. Three weeks from Halloween when he would have laughed at my Wonder Woman costume. Three weeks. Just three small weeks.
I fell in love with him. Never romantically, but the way a daughter falls in love with her dad, or the way two friends with like-souls fall in love when they finally meet. I loved him and cannot wait for the day when I walk into heaven and hear him say with his hand on his hip, "Well it's about damn time."
It is strange to grieve so alone. It hurts a little extra for it.
I will miss my friend. What a gift he was.
