Peace Out

I suppose that a part of me knew when the telephone rang.  The telemarketers would've been snug in their beds hours before and it was too late for a social call.  I recognized my friend Tricia's number and if there been any doubt with the first few rings, now I knew it was going to be the worst possible news.  For a second or two, I prayed - hoping that our friend Jim had maybe had a harsh reaction to the second round of chemo and radiation, that I would have to schedule a hospital visit the next day - but my heart had tightened and I knew it was a wasted prayer.  I answered and listened, waiting, waiting, and waiting for the reality to take hold, waiting for the words to make some kind of sense.  But they didn't.  After days of trying to process his cancer diagnosis and make it real, I found the fact of his sudden and completely unexpected death beyond my senses and out of reach.  

I didn't cry, couldn't summon tears or overcome the feeling of disassociation.  I felt as if I had been struck, knocked emotion-less and empty, afraid that if I were to reach for something solid, it would evaporate with my touch.  I can't comprehend not running into him at the grocery store, not sitting around Tricia's dining room table after a meal, not ever seeing him on stage again.  I remember a weekend at the lake when we stole his clothes, a dance at a benefit for the Strand Theatre, any number of loud and extravagant evenings at a cozy and popular restaurant, a hug he gave me after I'd had some serious dental work.  I remember his grin and his laugh and his heartbreak.  The world may not be a lesser place with his death, but our small corner of it certainly is.  I remember the first time I ever saw him - he was Captain Hook in a local production of Peter Pan - despite the over the top costume and the stage makeup and the exaggerated gestures, I fell hopelessly in love at first sight.  Later, he signed a picture for me - Barbara, he wrote in flourishing cursive, A fan is a performer's best friend!  Love, Jim....

He wasn't always so serene - life was not always as kind to him as he deserved but I hope he knew how much he was treasured and loved and respected.  He lived alone and left no family - a liberal, a romantic, a writer, actor, singer, gentleman and scholar and sometimes a troubled soul.

Peace, old friend.