In the end, our memories maybe our most valuable possession. When other things are taken away from us we can retain these. They make our lives bearable, when material items are lost, when our physical capabilities are diminished, and most sadly, when those we love are lost to us.
I have watched my human, one that I love, suffer the loss of his best friend. It was a friendship that is fifty-two years young and one that the Geezer says will transcend his “brother’s” death. Death is not a word we like. We avoid it like we avoid the event, but the knowledge it is inevitable forces us to consider it. Memories are what makes someone or something eternal. At least, that’s what the Geezer believes.
His friend Chet was one of those people who created memories for so, so many. He achieved many things in life. Chet was a scholar-educator of the highest order, a great athlete, a fine father and husband, and a leader of men and women. He left his imprint on those who knew him.
The Geezer and Coach, as everyone called him, shared the highs and lows in life. The hunting and fishing trips, the triumphs and satisfactions of coaching young men, the sharing and support when either succeeded or failed, the unflinching friendship under all conditions, and they always knew if they needed someone they could depend on, it was that special friend. The memories of those times will not die. We love you Coach.
“I’ve never felt more alone,” the Geezer told me. “It is like losing mom or dad, again. We had so many good times together, we went through tough ones leaning against each other, it’s difficult to admit to myself I can’t get in the car and visit him.”
I told him, “It is so hard to say goodbye.”
The Geezer shook his head. “It’s not goodbye, it’s until later. Until then he is in my heart and in my mind. We will never be far apart.”
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