Rest In Peace My Friend

Monday night, November 4th I flew back from London. As my flight landed in Boston I saw I had a text from my friend Dave. He simply said, “give me a call when you get a chance”.
I spoke to him for about 20 minutes as I waited for my luggage. Just touching base. He had been fighting leukemia for 5 years and was headed back into the hospital. He had picked up an infection.

On Tuesday we spoke briefly again. I had seen something that I knew Dave would find funny. We shared a laugh and said we would speak next week.

On Saturday November 9th at 8:08 AM David took his last breath. Although his final words were not documented rest assured they were likely wildly inappropriate and probably sarcastic.

As soon as I heard I called my wife and then a few other people who would want to know. There was a text message chain going around and it was soon apparent that Dave had spoken to many of us in the week before his death. He knew, but didn’t  tell us, that he was going to die. He knew that we would feel guilty if we didn’t speak to him before he died. So he called us.

 

 

 

As I headed into work last week my phone rang. The caller ID said it was him. My first thought was- What a great practical joke. This is definitely something he would do. Then I thought- HOLY CRAP, A call from the dead. How did Dave pull that off? He’s got serious connections! I tentatively answered the phone. It was Kate, Dave’s wife. He had left a list of people to call. To see how WE were doing. He wanted to make sure we were Ok.

 

 

 

 

That is just Dave. Even in death, wanting to make sure we were ok. Wanting to make sure that we knew he loved us.

Dave had a wide circle of friends. People he knew from gymnastics both as a competitor and then a coach, from his time as a school teacher, a chiropractor, a skater, or just a guy in the neighborhood. We all may have met him in different places but we all know his sense of humor. His ability to make even the most benign situations funny or a funny situation inappropriate.

He loved Kate, he loved his family, he loved his friends and he loved French Fries. Not necessarily in that order.

Dave liked clean endings but everyone has regrets in life. His regrets were few but may include mixing tequila shots and Yuengling and a hot dog of questionable origin at a camp in Huguenot, NY.

Dave was active and loved music, dancing, roller skating, and gymnastics. If there was music on he was moving to it. He was the DJ at my wedding reception. Every time the music slowed down and I walked by- he thrust a drink into my hand and we toasted. After the reception my wife and I went off on our honeymoon. Apparently the reception after party he helped organize lasted for days in our apartment. We found empty bottles in cabinets, under the couch, in closets for about a year. They put our LIVE fish in a blender! (thankfully never plugged it in and turned it on).

On Tuesday, November 19 we held an informal celebration of his life at the Harlem Tavern in NYC. People came in from New Hampshire, WAY upstate NY, Virginia, Maryland, Connecticut, and throughout NYC and the boroughs.

It was really great seeing everyone. People who I grew up with but haven’t seen in decades. I met people Dave had gone to pre-school with. I met his sister who I had never met. People from around his neighborhood. People from the NYC skating scene.
There was laughter, tears, stories, more tears, more laughter and a potential for too much alcohol and some bad decisions. Dave would have been proud.

Dave never wanted to be the center of attention. He was more the guy on the side making wise ass comments. Someone put a photo of Dave in a glass. We toasted with him often.

It is heartbreaking to think that many of us are not going to see each other until someone else dies.

Dave was the one who kept us in touch through e-mails and text messages.

When I die I hope I face it with the dignity, compassion and pure thoughtfulness that he did.

I hope that I am able to make an impact in as many lives as he did. And continues to do.

While I was on the train back from NYC the person sitting next to me noticed I was upset (and possibly REALLY hungover). I told her I was heading home after a celebration of life for a friend who had passed. Her toddler asked, “Mom, what is dying?”

What is dying
I am standing on the seashore, a ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says: “She is gone.”
Gone!
Where?
Gone from my sight that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her, and just at the moment when someone at my side says,
“She is gone”
there are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout:
“There she comes!”
and that is dying.

May you rest in peace my friend. We all loved you.