Kaddish

 I went to a funeral last week; seems my attendance of these things are becoming more frequent. This one was for someone I met in person all of twice and haven't been in active touch for years. When I heard of his passing, of course I had to go...

...en route it occurs to me that I will know no one.

We initially crossed paths in 2004 on the Brian Wilson Blue Board.  He was witty, friendly, and seemed to know everything about everything. This group helped get me through the worst of my blackout depression of 2005-06. (A lot of shit went down then; that I got through it is nothing short of miraculous.) Hubby and I met up with a few in Red Bank, NJ when we scored last minute tickets to a fund raiser.  We met up with him and a few ladies before the show, then after, across the street at a bar for a late dinner and drinks. 

We were sitting outside, and it began to drizzle. Whenever we chatted, he would tell me he would meet up for damp burgers anytime.

We both eventually drifted away from the Blue Board and went on to do our things.  He moved back to PA and enjoyed performing theater and improv when he wasn't working his day job. I'd keep up with his doings on social media, and we'd joke that we needed to meet up for damp burgers.

I remember early days of isolation that he asked people to write him snail mail. I jotted down his address and thought I'd get the boys to drop him a line, too. Then life overwhelmed, as it does, and that good intention got buried, like so many do. 

I really do try to be impeccable in my word; if I say I'm going to do something, I do it. Except for when I get buried, then I triage, and sometimes promises need to get walked back or re-jiggered.

It helps if I am in fairly regular contact with the contractee; and if you aren't insistent, sometimes I fail to pick up where I left off.

So, he died, and the least I could do was go pay my respects.

I missed the turn headed to the cemetery; it's okay, he had me covered--I was able to make a turn that under normal circumstances would have been impossible to make, traffic being what it is. And I didn't endanger anyone doing it--yay.

But by coming in this side entrance, I missed the color coding of all the services happening that afternoon.  I stop at one intersection, puzzling at the nameless colored arrows,  I stared at the orange one, which went away from a majority of the other ones.  I could swear I heard him say, "That's the one."

Fortunately, the office was enroute, and there was an employee coming my way on a golf cart. I called out "How do I know where a graveside service is?"

He smiled, "MJC?  See that tent?" Literally a hundred yards off to my left over a small hill, I could make out the top of it.  I thanked him and hurried over.

It was good to see a crowd, about 100 people or so crowded under or near the tent. He was a good guy. Whoever couldn't be there in person tuned in over Zoom. I had gotten the link in case I couldn't get away.  I stood off by myself; I wasn't here for anyone but him.

And he literally got me there, so I knew he knew I made it. 

Rest in peace.  Keep up the improv and theater and puns. And enjoy a damp burger.