Richard's Last Day

I was thinking of my high school best friend Richard Dunn lately.

The last year of his life Richard's mantra was "It sucks to be me". And it did. Two years earlier Richard was diagnosed with a terminal cancer. Not a normal one. As in all things, Richard had to be different. His cancer slowly and painfully consumed the human body. Inch by inch, piece by piece. Of course he ran through the battery of conventional treatment and then a battery of non conventional treatment. All through it his manner stayed upbeat and when we would meet for lunch his smile was as big as ever. He actually embarrassed me once at a Soup or Salad. Having spent a long time in the insurance industry I had made a couple of suggestions as to how to end up owing the hospital less money. It must have worked because when I walked into the Soup or Salad he fell to his knee and began bowing to me. He was never embarrassed. Not that I ever saw.

I loved the way he would tell a joke. He never made it to the punch line. He would get so tickled at the joke that he would be helpless with laughter before he could finish it.

He loved the theater. So on his last day - the day he told me to not make any plans about him past that day - Carol and I drove to Sun City and picked he and his wife Edie up and drove them to the Palm Theater in Mesa. I had to physically lift him in and out of the car. Upbeat all the way he talked on and on about his favorite musicals. They have a buffet brunch at the Palm Theater and we ate and watched a very good presentation of Miss Saigon. At the intermission he had to go to the bathroom. With his arm over my shoulder we made it to the men's room and I literally had to hold him at the urinal so he could do his business. He said we had never been quite that close in high school.

At the end of the program we drove back to his daughters house so I didn't have to go all the way to Sun City. His daughter was going to spend his last night with him. I got him into her car in the passenger seat and he rolled the window down. I took his hand and he told me he loved me. He began to cry and kissed my hand. I was too stupid to know what to do. I kissed the top of his head and got out of there.

That night he mixed a lethal cocktail and went to bed. His daughter called me early the next morning to tell me he was gone.

I've been thinking of my friend Richard lately.