Dear Jack,
I’m sorry I didn’t come visit you last weekend. I was feeling a bit selfish and just wanted to stay in. I didn’t get out of my pyjamas all day. Or maybe all weekend, for that matter. You see, I lost my brother on October 27th. And learning to grieve is a new thing for me. Remember I mentioned it on the 29th, the last time I saw you. Remember I brought Boo in so you could see him in his Halloween costume, so it would brighten your day. It was all so fresh and I mentioned it to you, briefly. You didn’t say anything, though. Not a word. I thought perhaps you might say I’m sorry for your loss, or this must be difficult. But you said nothing at all (which kind of hurt my feelings). Maybe it was hard to hear about another losing his life, especially one so young, when you were confined to that miserable bed in that miserable nursing home, your own life slowly fading away. The aide came to feed you dinner, so we said our goodbyes. Where’s my kiss, you barked at me. It was too crowded for all of us in there. Me, Boo, the aide. I could barely reach you to lean over and kiss you. But since you put it that way… We had a nice visit, didn’t we You told me that I had rescued you. You were trapped in an airplane. You had been dreaming, you see, but I arrived in the nick of time. I’m glad I could be of assistance.
Today, I packed up Boo, even though I still don’t feel like getting out and about, but I know how much it brightens your week to have a little visit from us. And your neighbor Herman sure loves our visits too. He always asks if he can keep Boo.
I was walking towards your room and the nurse stopped me to ask who I was visiting.
My friend Jack, I said. Oh, I’m sorry, he passed away, she said.
When I asked. Last Saturday. The 5th. Around noon. He drifted away in his sleep.
So you see, you left us, on the day I was being selfish. I could have been there and held your hand while you drifted off to meet your maker. It’s the time I’m normally there. Instead, you were all alone. I’m sorry I missed you.
In a way, I’m also a bit miffed at that person you call a son, even though he’s not your son. He hardly ever visited you. He didn’t even bring you clean clothes when you needed them. The staff asked me about it and I said I didn’t know what your arrangement was, but that the so called son was responsible for your care. As far as I can see, he has done very little to reciprocate all that you have ever done for him, and I find that quite pathetic. He could have called me and let me know. He knows I’m your only friend here. I would have wanted to be by your side when they lowered your spent body into the earth. I know that every time we saw each other, we knew it might be the last time. And I’m glad you told me you weren’t afraid to go. You lived a colorful and eventful life, my friend. I’m glad to have met you.
But I’m sorry I missed you.
My friend Jack.
August 1, 1916 – November 5, 2005
