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Yesterday was 413.
I keep certain folks in my phone with reminders of birthdays, even after I lose them. Yesterday would have been Perry’s 64th birthday.
There was a 14-month stretch in 2008-9 where I lost three of my closest friends. Sean vanished entirely one day in late spring. Emails returned box full and phone disconnects. Dunno if he died, got vanished into a Mexican prison or something, or simply walked away from everyone and everything. Donna (first wife) died of breast cancer in June. (Original diagnosis in 2005 was Stage 4 ad six months, but she was stubborn and had things to do before she quit. Lasted almost exactly three years.)
Then Perry died.
He’d moved from Seattle back to Atlanta several years earlier, chasing a dream. It being the early email days, we stayed in touch, though long-distance bills were still a thing, as were charges for texting. Mostly email. For many years.
Winter 2007-08, Donna decided that she wanted to be married again (this after threatening to walk away immediately if I even mentioned the topic to her previously), and planned it for June. Small ceremony. Her kids, husbands, and grands. Only “outsiders” where her Maid of Honor, who she had known forever, and Perry, who I flew up special, then handed him the keys to my truck afterwards so he could spend a week seeing everyone he’d missed.
Then he went home and life settled into whatever the new normal would be, when I lost Donna in July, after 21 days of being married. Good friends kept me mostly sane. Got through the fall. Into the winter. Into 2009.
Then one day, I got a call.
(long pause. Heavy breaths.)
I’d been trying to get hold of Perry, but never got answers when I called (normal, if he was working) and he didn’t call back.
Two weeks pass, and he calls.
“Where the hell have you been?” I ask, seeing his number come up. (He occasionally had to vanish related to former government work and consulting, or so the story went).
“Is this Blaze?” she asked.
Well, fuck. Knew instantly.
He’d been at church on a Wednesday, cooking for the congregation, because he was a trained chef among all the other things he did. Hadn’t been feeling well, so he sat down, and died in his pastor’s arms of a massive, sudden heart attack.
Gone, just like that. At least I got to bring him back to Seattle for that one last trip. And to see him.
His sister made arrangements and flew out to Seattle in the fall, where we had a wake for him at our favorite restaurant. Only a few of the folks knew him, but they’d all heard me talk about Perry. And been with me through Sean disappearing on all of us, then me losing Donna.
It’s been 18 years. Still choke up, because three close friends all gone too soon, back to back to back. Remember to hug people. Lots.
Remember that this might be the last time you ever see them. And that you will miss them a lot, especially when their birthday reminder comes up. (Donna’s is in November)
Yesterday would have been his birthday. And I miss him.
shade and sweet water,
b
West of the Mountains, WA
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