Goodbye Dear Friend

Dan's Dad died last Saturday. Bill was 99 and during the last couple of years he had failed, suffering with the sorts of infirmities that we all must endure if we live long enough. Bill didn't want any eulogies or "exaggeration," as he put it, but I don't think he'd mind me simply saying goodbye to someone who treated me as a son, as good as or better than my own family has, accepting me into his family from the first day I met him almost 25 years ago. I loved him as a son would love his father, the type of thing that you realize too often only after they have gone and it's too late to actually tell them. He'll be in my memory always.

A decade ago Bill wanted to learn about computers even though he was in his late 80s and his arthritic hands prevented him from typing with ease. So, I helped him order a computer and got him conected to AOL. For a few years Bill enjoyed the online experience. We all marvelled at his interest in computers, politics, golf, and life until the ravages of time finally took their toll.

Hey Bill, I'll meet you in that Great Country Club Grill Room in the cosmos in a few years, and we'll reminisce over some scotch and vodka. Save a place at your table for me. No gin rummy, though, I'm no match for you on that score.

"DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou
art not so, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore
death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures
bee, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best
men with thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. Thou art slave
to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and
sicknesse dwell, And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better
then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then; One short sleepe past, wee wake
eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. " - John Donne

Jim