Saturday, March 12, 2005
Silver Linings, Darkling Clouds
I actually dragged myself out at an early hour and went to see my ailing father in the hospital. He wasn't in his room in ICU. Zack, Nurse Extraordinaire, tracked him to another floor. Dad looked the best he has yet; the feeding tube is out of his nose, they don't have quite as many wires and sensors all over him, and he was resting peacefully when I got there.
He was conscious, wanted his TV on, knew who I was.
I was so relieved I leaned on the rail of his bed and we both fell asleep for about an hour. I still had time to do some banking and things I needed to get done, so I said my goodbyes and took off.
All went well until I got home. The next door neighbor and his son came over. The neighbor needed help with his computer, the son broke the news to me that a friend of ours had died of a drug overdose, and it was quite possibly deliberately done by her boyfriend.
There are people who, if I find out they died, I can shrug it off; I don't care. Sometimes I'm a bit relieved or glad. I'm mean that way. But this woman...she and I have been friends and enemies over the years. We knew each other very well. And, in spite of things I didn't like about her, I felt a kind of love for her in my heart. She was a drunk and an occasionally clean junkie, and had some very bad behavior. She was always a disruption when she'd show up at my house. But underneath that, she was a woman with a heart and a conscience. Her childhood had been a non-stop horror, as had much of her early adult life.
But when my last wife left me, this woman was there for me, calling me at night to make sure I was ok, demanding I come pick her up and go do something with her, even if it was go see a movie or go sit under a bridge and talk. She also often forced me to get out and exercise, and helped me stay on a diet she invented. I once lost 35 pounds in three months following her diet.
In the end, I guess all I can say is, I've lost a friend, and I will miss her.
Melanie Ann Ryder, may you find a peace in death and whatever comes next that was denied you in life. I'll think of you often, and I'll never forget you.
I sat for a while and thought about her, flashes of memory running through my head. Thousands of them. Years. Then I went over and checked out the neighbor's computer. I love when it's easy. In ten minutes, I'd figured out his problem, loaded up the new software he couldn't get the computer to accept, and told him he had too many running processes, and they were sucking all the RAM out of his computer. I told him to go buy more RAM, and I'd find him a program that grabs the RAM back that's not being actively used. Later I'll teach him how to deactivate more of them so he only calls them up when needed. Baby steps.
But DAMN. Lanie shouldn't be dead. Not at 34. With a few more years, she might have made it.
Great news, then, to hear that your Dad's doing better. And I'm sorry to hear you've lost a friend like Lanie, whatever the ups and downs might have been in that friendship.
Kevin
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