Good-bye to My Friend

In 1980 I had just moved into a new apartment complex in Houston and I didn't know anyone. There was a courtyard with a pool and 8 beautiful weeping willow trees and residents used to gather there in the cool evenings. There was a man who was always there --- a very handsome man --- who sometimes had a little girl with him. It wasn't long before we got to know each other. His name was Michael, his daughter's name was Ashleigh. It didn't take long to learn to love them both.

For several years we were the best of friends. On the weekends when Michael had his daughter we would take her to the beach or the zoo or somewhere fun. I made her a costume for the annual rodeo in Houston. On the weekends when Ashleigh was with her mother, Michael and I spent most of our time getting into various forms of mischief. No one could find more fun to have than Michael.

In 1984 Michael developed a chest cold that wouldn't go away. I was worried about him but he was always in such good spirits that I couldn't stay worried for long. One Saturday morning I went to his apartment because I thought he looked terrible the day before. I found Ashleigh sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal. The house was a disaster --- most unusual --- and I found Michael trying to sleep sitting up in bed. His skin was the color of putty --- old putty. “Come on,” I said, “I'm taking you to the emergency room.”

No, he told me, you take care of Ashleigh and I'll get to the emergency room on my own. I didn't feel good about that but I didn't know what else to do.

When Michael didn't return by 2:00pm I took Ashleigh to her mother's house and got our friend Scott to go with me to the hospital. What we found shocked both of us. Michael was in intensive care, his heart was severely enlarged, and they didn't expect him to make it through the night. I knew his family was in Maine but that was all I knew. I called his ex-wife and, with her help, we made the necessary phone calls.

Michael survived that night. He survived that night and a year's worth of others until he was finally admitted to Texas Heart where he would live until a heart became available for him. His family and loved ones and I waited with fear and faith and love and prayers. Finally on the 4^th of July 1985 a heart became available. The transplant was performed. A few weeks later Michael was taken to Maine and we kept in touch through phone calls and letters.

By 1987 Michael was well enough to be living on his own in Camden, Maine. I was still in Houston living with a man who was making me miserable. I complained to Michael about it endlessly. “Look,” he said one night while I was in tears, “just get the hell out of there. Come up here. You can live with me until you decide what you want to do.” And that is how I wound up in New England.

I loved Michael's family --- they were a family much like my own --- big and loud and wonderful and warm. We often spent weekends with them in Sangerville or at Sebec Lake. Ashleigh came up for the summer. It was a delightful time. By autumn I knew I needed to get a job and, for a variety of reasons, I decided to move to Salem, Massachusetts.

Over the next several years we kept in touch through long phone calls and letters and email. I moved to Gloucester. He move to Hawaii. But he always came back to spend summers in Maine and I would find time for a visit. He knew his time was limited --- a man with someone else's heart in his chest knows such things. But he lived to see his daughter become a woman --- I was in Sangerville for her wedding. And he lived to see his granddaughter Sydney born (above left). The last time I saw him was two summers ago when I picked up Ashleigh and her daughter Sydney at Logan Airport and drove them to Portland to meet Michael and his dear friend Paleka who traveled with him now. In 2006 Michael was diagnosed with cancer and he survived that too. He was a walking miracle --- the second longest heart transplant in the country.

This morning his sister Jackie called me to give me the news. Michael had arrived as he always did in the summer. He was thin as a rail and very frail but that smile, that wonderful gorgeous smile, and that wicked sense of humor was as vibrant as always. He attended his sister's fortieth birthday party and even danced. The next day, yesterday, he said he needed to lie down. When he didn't get up this morning they went upstairs and found out that, after 23 years of fighting the good fight, Michael had left this world. He left in the midst of the people he loved most in all the world having danced away the previous evening. And he died in bed --- his favorite place. He died a good death. But he will be missed. He will be very, very, very much missed.

Thank you, Michael, for all you did for me --- for getting me away from a bad situation and into the arms of your wonderful family. Thank you for teaching me about loons and taking me sailing and taking me to my first (and only) drag show. Thank you for the light that radiated from you like a choir of naughty angels. And thank you for being a precious part of my life. Sleep well. You've earned it.

Thanks for reading.