Friends & Life

I’m at that age where “ailments” seem to to creep up on us. Since I turned 50, I’ve had more “procedures” under anesthesia than I had pretty much my whole life prior to 50. Yes, some of it is because I haven’t taken as good care of myself as I should have, but I haven’t been a softy either. Some of my issues are also inherited, passed down in my genes from previous generations. Some of them I could have avoided, some of them were certainly self-inflicted.

I never considered myself a high-level athlete, although I was somewhat athletic. I used to play neighborhood ball, baseball, hockey, basketball, football. I was certainly not an uncoordinated kid and that helped me play and love sports.

In my late teens I worked in a valet parking garage in downtown Philly. We used to spend the day running up and down 5 flights of concrete stairs. I’m not talking one step at a time either, we used to jump those bad boys 2 or 3 at a time both up and down. I was in pretty good shape but never really had the urge to be an actual athlete.

In my 20’s and early 30’s I went to the gym. Lifted weights did cardio, the whole thing. I loved to go out dancing with my co-workers and that was also a form of cardio for me. Of course, there were those times when I got a girlfriend, stopped going to the gym and, let’s just say, I “grew” a bit.

In my 40’s I took mixed martial arts classes and when I turned 50 I did crossfit for the better part of a year. I had my moments of “glory”, and was really proud of what I'd accomplished in both of those activities. But for the most part I felt like the “old guy” in the class. Always a little slower than everyone else exercise wise, and not always feeling like I wanted to be there. My body was calling out to stop, so I did. I wish I hadn’t and I’m still considering a return. That of course is dependent on how long my recovery will be for my hernia surgery in a couple of weeks. Oh, I also had to get my calcium levels in check first which meant parathyroidectomy surgery a couple of months ago. See what I mean? It’s always something.

I recently attended my 40th high school reunion. I even got talked into being on the committee, yea, not sure how that happened. All in all, it was a fun night. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and the staff at venue did such a great job. Some of the committee members put together a memorial table for classmates that had passed. We graduated with about 880 classmates, we lost about 60 since then. Most of them I knew, some of them I was friends with, one of them I knew almost all my life and was a former girlfriend. Tough to take. Some passed quite some time ago, others more recently.

A few days before I started writing this entry in February (2020), someone I consider one of my best friends passed away. He’s had some health and other life challenges over the past few years, but he seemed to be doing ok. I texted him on what would have been his 59th birthday. He usually got back to me pretty quick, but not this time. I figured he was out and not looking at his phone, but when he didn’t answer all day, I got concerned. Then the next day I get on social media and see THE dreaded post from one of his brothers. The same brother also sent me a private message telling me that my friend, his younger brother (he was actually the baby in the family and has three older brothers) had passed in his sleep. It was sudden, shocking, and a huge punch in the gut. Another of his friends had not heard from him for a couple of days and was also concerned. She went to his apartment and found him. I can’t even imagine that scene or how that will affect her for the rest of her life.

I’ve known my friend for over 40 years, and now he’s gone. . . just like that. I’m so sad, but I’m not even sure if it’s real yet. We didn’t talk every day; we would text from time to time and get together for dinner with our other friend. In high school we were pretty inseparable, and you rarely saw one of us without the other two. We’ve kept in touch and made sure we see or communicate with each other a few times a year. When we got together it was like we saw each other every day. We would catch up for an hour or two and then get back to our regularly scheduled lives.

We all know death is inevitable, that doesn’t make it suck any less. I always tell myself they’re in a better place now, or at least I hope they are. Maybe they’re even better off than we are, who knows. Bottom line is that my friend is gone and although I will speak fondly of him forever, I will also miss him the rest of my life. This is my stage of life and I’m sure I will have many more of these “oh shit, no!” moments as we all will, I just hope they are far and few between.

We always hear people say live every day like it’s your last. I’m not sure that’s possible, but we should certainly take the time to love our friends, see each other during life commercials, and enjoy the good times. Eventually, it all ends. Sorry to be so macabre, it’s just how I’m feeling. Thanks for reading.