Today my blog is giving over the writing stuff to help me deal with something personal.
Originally the title of this post was "Fuck, I'm so sad," but that seemed a little harsh. It's true, though. One of my clients, also a close friend of mine, died last night. It's not entirely unexpected, he was 89, but it's one of those things, you know? I work with seniors, I understand that their life expectancy isn't the same as mine, but some of them are so much larger than life that it's almost incomprehensible when they pass away.
The man in question won't have a funeral here; his body is heading back to New York, where he was born, raised and lived for most of his life. Living in Colorado was his family's decision, and he never felt quite right here. He won't even have a memorial, but I'm cut up about this and I need a moment to remember him, so this is it.
J, you were an incredible ass. You were a wild thing in your youth, you got into terrible fights, you traveled the world, you served your country and you thrived on chaos. I'm amazed you survived this long between the stabbing, the drinking, the motorcycle accident and your oversized ego. You only became introspective late in life, once I got to know you, but your stories were the highlight of my day. You were a confusing, demanding, gruffly affectionate mess, and I know you drove your family nuts sometimes. You drove me nuts too, but you made work into something I looked forward to. You always, without fail, wanted to see me when I showed up, did your best to be appreciative of what we did even when it was hard or you were unhappy, and made me feel good about myself. It is selfish to miss you as much as I do when I know you were so broken up in the end, but I can't quite manage equanimity where you're concerned yet.
I miss you.
Rough Friday, guys. I hope you head into the weekend with more joy. I'll be fine, I just needed to do this.