Death is Inevitable but Never Easy
My last remaining friend, Dave, is dying. He’s 82 years old and in constant pain from various ailments, some related to injuries from Vietnam service. I’ve known him for nearly 40 years. As Dave’s life winds down, I wish I could be there to tell him how much his friendship, advice and counsel has meant to me over the years. I tell him he’s a fount of useless minutia. He always has some tidbit of information that may or may not be relevant to the discussion at hand but is always amusing, interesting or insightful and, sometimes, all three at once.
Dave was a college basketball standout, a Navy ensign and a “hard hat” diver. At 6’4″, he was barely able to qualify because diving suits don’t easily accommodate tall people. The attached photo is of a newer suit than Dave wore in Vietnam 
but it gives you the idea. In college, he was a basketball player where his height was an advantage but not so much in a diving suit.
When I first met Dave, I thought he was a bit of a know-it-all but I soon realized that Dave was just Dave. He had a lot of opinions but if I didn’t want or like his advice, he was OK with that. And, whenever I made a mistake, he’d just shrug and rarely said, “I told you so!”
We bonded over that fact that we worked for an insecure, incompetent manager who, while standing 6’4″, still wore platform shoes to make himself appear taller. Our boss was the epitome of “Caspar Milquetoast.” To quote an old cliche, the guy “Wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouthful.” Dave and I also worked with some good people in that department including Dave’s secretary Wanda who was almost as tall as him and a real firecracker. There was Clay, a highly intelligent, over qualified analyst who loved his numbers. There was the former priest who never wanted to take a stand on any issue and usually appeared to be asleep. Other, not so pleasant people included a guy who would screw whatever and whoever walked in front of him in a skirt and a secretary who accommodated him. My own secretary was a nice lady who could have been my mom. Yeah, Dave and I shared some interesting times together. After we went our separate ways, we stayed in touch and laughed about shared experiences.
In writing this post, I came to realize that Dave, like all three guys that I considered true friends, never judged me. He accepted me as I was. Of course, he would occasionally say things like, “You’re being a dumbfuck about that” but I always knew that meant he was worried I was about to make a big mistake.
He and I both believe that death simply means the switch is thrown and the lights go out. We don’t share silly myths about an afterlife or heaven and hell or reconnecting with loved ones so I hope Dave’s end is peaceful and painless. Goodbye good friend, I’ll miss you greatly.