This week's topic comes from the fertile - er - stagnant? imagination of yours truly. Pals can mean different things - to me pals are close friends. The closest. In my case that includes Brian, Dave H. and Ranger Rick. I have known those guys for well over 55 years. Our 50th year high school reunion is in October of this year.,
I have written before how the weekend after Lynn died, Brian, Dave and Rick showed up on my doorstep in Ft. Worth just to hang out with me and assure my well being. After 10 years of caregiving, the last 18 months of which were brutal, I was a basket case. You see - Lynn gve up on life when she received her diagnosis. She literally refused to fight or resist the ravages of Huntington's Disease. She physically attacked our daughter and I fairly regularly as HD robbed her of her personality and focused her anger on us both. Yes it was the disease, not Lynn, but when you are regulrly blocking left hooks I assure you that fact is easily lost. Stifling your anger becomes increasingly difficult. Stress levels rise to seemingly impossible heights. The last time I saw my wife of 43 years (together for over 45) she was being zipped into a body bag and about to be transported to the mortuary.
I received a phone call during the week and was simply told the guys would be arriving Friday night and I should be ready to go when they arrived. There was a bit of fun as they used their phones to get directions to our place from Dallas' Love Field - but they made it. And so began the 3-day period that literally saved me and made me want to get on with life. Isn't that what friends are for? I will admit to a fair amount of alcohol being consumed and lots of reminiscing. And - perhaps surprisingly - a lot of relaxing.
That is the Cliff's Notes version of 3 days that literally saved me. It defines for me why old friends - pals - are so important.
Be sure tosee what my LBC cohorts have to say on their blogs. Ramana, Pravin and Maria.