Saying Ray was my best friend would be an overstatement. Saying he was a good friend would be much more appropriate. Regardless of the adjective used, the loss humbles me for many reasons. He was a buddy, and, as life unfolds, I realize that in my future I will be forced to face this same scenario more times than I wish to think.
Unfortunately, the end of life is out there . . . we know that, even though we do everything in our power to avoid thinking of it. Two months ago, my buddy Ray Stein was living a carefree, happy life as a husband, dad, and grandpa, enjoying all the freedom that retirement could offer. Two months later, he is gone. Two months later, I feel an emptiness, almost a feeling of disbelief.
Ray was a good man, a helper to many, a military veteran, a dedicated police officer, and a true comic relief. As my brief eulogy, I honor him as a man who not only wore many hats, but as a man who wore them well--he was well liked and well respected, and I thoroughly enjoyed him. I suppose I could continue with praise, but that is not my objective with this writing. What I once again was reminded of yesterday is that living is a treasure.
At yesterday's funeral, I saw friends I have not seen in a long while, ones who took the time to pay respect to Ray. I must admit that mixed with my sadness was a euphoric feeling of being with old friends, ones I spent my college years with and ones who could spin tales that need not be repeated in this blog. However, that is my point: I was with my friends.
At the risk of sounding melancholy, I stood in that funeral home and watched the faces of people I have known for many years. Easy to say that we are past our youth, well into our middle age, and leaning against the door of old age. Each of us, of course, was alone with our thoughts, but I have to believe we were all thinking the same at one point or another: when is it going to happen to me? No, I am not paranoid about the eventual, but funerals have a tendency to rattle us to our core because we know the next one could be us, a friend, or a family member. In my case, it shook me especially seeing the reaction of another longtime friend who truly was saddened, who realized that he had lost a true pal.
I write this blog because I love to write; as I have stated, I have opinions and logic, but sometimes I bear my soul. For what reason, I am not positive, but, if I am feeling something, I have to think that others are as well. Obviously, I am not enjoying writing this today, but I feel almost moved to do so. In my life, I have been gifted to have many friends; I consider myself a fortunate man--with a loving family and loyal friends, how can a guy complain? When I am with my buddies, I feel so comfortable--the thought of not having them a phone call away scares me, to be blunt. Again, the key word is "comfortable"--I suppose we keep each other feeling fresh with our constant banter, but more than that is the bond that unites us. Difficult to pinpoint, but we all know it's there.
From my seat, my writing today is about appreciating what I have; the proverbial "stop and smell the roses" is what I am talking about because that is exactly what I felt when I said good-bye to my friend. On a larger scale, life is not too short--it's what we put into it and get out of it that matters. Needless to say, I am thoroughly enjoying my life and those who are part of it . . . let's keep this game going. While we're doing that, let's take a moment every now and then to remember our good buddies like Ray, and let's not be too macho to look at our buddies and appreciate what we have right now . . . I don't want to wait and say, "I wish I had . . . ."
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