I lost a friend last week. My friend Steve was a neighbor for many years when we lived in Cleveland, a racquetball companion, a house project assistant (and we often reversed roles), a brilliant craftsman of his art, and an all around good guy and buddy. His wife, my wife, he and I got together regularly, cooked meals, chatted. Our wives were friends and had many mutual friends. They rented the house across the street from us for a year or two, then moved a couple streets away when they bought their first house in town.
Steve and his wife were around when both our children were born. My eldest loved to visit Steve and their dogs (including a Newfie that she could ride like a horse). Steve and I dug gardens and built fences together. He was a California guys' guy...that means we talked talked cars, motorcycles and politics as well as cooking. He introduced me to racquetball and whirlpool at the Y and I introduced him to the old schvitz (steam bath) in what used to be the Jewish neighborhood and was by then pretty much in the center of the ghetto. Where else could guys go to get steam, get beaten with birch branches and then sit, wrapped in nothing but a town, and eat an enormous steak covered with garlic (in a room with linoleum floor, dinette sets and pictures of Moshe Dayan and Benito Mussolini on the walls) and then take a nap? We had a great time even though he worked like crazy and so did I.
We moved first and we kept in touch - sort of...occasional emails, a couple of visits back. But we were guy friends -- which meant we could pick up the conversation after 9 months of no communication like it was yesterday -- which is what we did for a few years. Then they moved back to California and contact dwindled to occasional and brief emails and then mostly nothing.
Steve is dead, now, at the age of 48 from an apparent heart attack. I found out a couple of days after the event and could not make the funeral. The loss of Steve is a tragedy - for his family, for his friends, and for those who loved his art. He had so much more left to give us, to do, to accomplish.
I am so damn angry about Steve's passing....much more angry than sad. I am 5+ years older than Steve and for the entire time I knew him he was in much better shape, ate healthier, worked out more, and was generally more physically active that I ever was. I smoked, he didn't. I was 30 pounds overweight, he wasn't. I sat on my backside all day and then ran though airports. His craft required physical stamina and incredible lung capacity. He's dead and I am not. I know life isn't fair, but quite frankly, God has some real explaining to do on this one and the lack of answers or logic makes me furious. But - pause for thought -- I was brought up knowing that life is not fair so what was the source of this anger? I have thought about this for some days and think I have the answer.
When my sister died some 40 years ago, we made a family pact - on two issues. First, we were never to say goodbye to each other without certain knowledge that we were all "current" -- that we had said everything that needed to be said -- that if anything were to happen that not one of us would look back and say, "if only I had told them or if only I had said..." Second, we were never to let communication lapse for any reason - not for conflict or disagreement or geography or job or kids or whatever. For 40 years, we have done a reasonably good job of keeping that commitment.
Only thing I did not do was to extend that commitment to the few true friends I had -- and Steve was one of those friends. I let communication lapse, I did not pursue and continue, I did not say everything that needed to be said. Maybe I am the unusual and unique guy, but when I look around, I don't see many guys my age with tons of close guy friends...a few at most. Lots of casual acquaintances, but not many hard and fast friends. Steve was one of those friends and I let it go, did not work hard enough to maintain contact, made the wrong efforts.
So, in addition to being sad, I am indeed angry ... at myself. In addition to being a great guy and good friend, Steve has, in his passing, also served as a teacher. He has re-taught me the lesson of 40 years ago. Family and close friends are few, rare, and very much worth working very hard to ensure not to lose contact.
Thanks, Steve, for one last act of friendship.
