“She’s Just Gone”

Years and years and years ago, a young man took a job working in a construction office.

He learned construction at my Dad’s right hand.

Years and years ago, I met the middle-aged man on a job and he asked me about my surname.

“Is John your Dad?”

I nodded.

“Man, I love that guy.”

I put my new friend in touch with my Dad and then I set into working with the guy who learned from my Dad.

Dad mentioned that:

“He was always love sick about a girl. I think he married her.”

Years ago, the man retired and when he left, he put his phone on the counter and just left.

I missed him, but I didn’t try too hard to get in touch with him. He was retired. 

Enough is enough.

He called me yesterday and his voice and his laugh were as strong as ever.

“I got to thinking about you,” he said. “I’m a bachelor now.”

I was afraid to ask.

“My wife was diagnosed last December. She went fast. I’m okay.”

I said all the things that people say when they hear such news.

“It’s okay,” he said, twice more. He laughed nervously. 

I knew it wasn’t okay.

I kept him on the line for a while. 

I listened to his heartbreaking story, and made him laugh with a line about him being the worst bachelor possible.

“I know you’re working,” he said. “I don’t want to hold you up.”

“You ain’t holding me up, buddy. I’m glad I have your number now. I’ll call.”

“Please do.”

He paused.

A friendship of more than 50 years if you count his time with my Dad.

“It’s crazy,” he said. “I was dating her when I worked with your Dad. We did everything together. Now she’s just gone.”

Heartbreaking.

We exchanged Christmas greetings. 

I told him the story about the kids calling me old as I tried to shovel snow.

Made him laugh some more.

“Goes fast, brother,” he said. “You were in your 20’s when I met you.”

Man, I hope he has a good Christmas.