The Real Deal

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.

1 Peter 4:8

Let me tell you about an old friend of mine.  We were buddies in the sweetest of times.  Early elementary school.  His folks were good friends with my parents.  They got together every weekend to play cards and have dinner.  Sometimes we were at their house for a fish fry.  Sometimes we were at our house for a cookout.  But wherever we were, we had a great time. We got to stay up late on those nights, and we watched goofy late-night 1970s television – corny movies and sci-fi shows. We watched Charlie Chan and sea monsters and Space: 1999.

Our families camped together on the sandbar at the river.  We went to the beach and to the rodeo. My friend and I played football and ran with our dogs, and we even built a snow fort once, an unusual occurrence in southern Alabama.  We played my mom's old 45 singles on the turntable.  He would sing Elvis, and I would dance.  We climbed trees. Took naps. Played board games.  He was one of my first best friends. The real deal.

His folks divorced when he and I were 8. He and his mom moved away, out of state. 

I have seen him once since then. We were in high school, and he came to town for a little while.  He was in trouble with his mom, maybe even with the law, and he came to stay with his step-dad in the old place. You know the routine. They wanted to help him work things out. Get back on the right path. Make good decisions. It didn't really work.

I drove him home from school one day, and we tried to catch up. He was different, distant, but I was so glad to see him. I remember him laughing and shaking his head before he got out of the car.  He commented something about how I hadn't changed.  Odd since it had been nearly ten years.  I was a high school senior, for goodness' sake!  It didn't occur to me then, but later I was curious about what he meant. I still saw things with optimism and trust, but he did not. I wonder what he had seen, heard, experienced. What had been his reality? What life experiences had shaped him? I never asked.

I have looked for him from time to time. He'd been in and out of jail. He'd struggled with drugs, struggled with relationships.  I didn't know if he would care what I thought or what I said, but I just wanted to make contact for old times' sake.  For the sake of sweet memories and innocence and better times. And I didn't because I guessed that was only for me. I doubted he would have time for all of that.

I just looked him up again.

This time, I found him. Or, rather, I found his obituary.  Or, rather, I found his death notice.  There was no obituary.  No "preceded in death by…" or "survived by…" Just his full name and his dates.  Born. Dash. Died.  No service time. No place of burial. That broke my heart. Maybe I’m wrong, but it came across as so lonely.

So that's what I wanted to share with you. We had not been friends in a lifetime. But he was somebody who was important to me. I missed my chances to tell him that ten, twenty, thirty years ago. Would we have still been friends? Had a connection? I'm not sure. Maybe not. But if you have someone in your life who is the real deal, genuine, and important to you, tell them. They may need to hear it. And, really, you may need to say it.