Saturday, September 3, 2011

To Eddie... with love.

Until Facebook, Frank and I exchanged semi-annual emails - usually in the new year and sometime between my birthday in July and his birthday in November.

I last time I saw him was a few years ago; he had been living in Korea for years and quite unexpectedly announced that he was moving to Vancouver. I saw him shortly after he arrived. He was OUTRAGED that he had been there an entire WEEK and had not secured a teaching position. He was worried about living off his savings and going broke in Vancouver.

He asked me when the sun would come out. I told him "Next summer."

We had lunch. We went for a walk. He complained loudly about how badly his last partner had treated him. He met my husband and expressed surprise at my settling down. We sat together on the sofa and talked about mutual acquaintances and "Do you remember the time..." all afternoon.

He said he had some interviews lined up and he would be in touch. A hug, a couple of air kisses and a "I love you, Pats." "Cheers. Thanks a lot. Love you too, Eddie." and he was gone.

The next time I heard from him was months later. He sent me a Facebook friend request. That's how I found out he had gone back to Korea.

"Sorry." he said.

It was kind of a last minute thing. The next time he came back to Canada he'd book a stopover in Vancouver. We'll have lunch. Go for a drink. Something.

He never did.

We kept in touch via Facebook. We posted smarmy messages on each other's walls. Over the past few years I watched him literally work his ass off.

"I AM THIN AND GORGEOUS!" was our rallying cry. He was getting to where he wanted to be. He had plans... and none of those plans led back to Canada. Of that he was sure.

He apologized to me for being such a crap friend while he was in Vancouver. I told him that I was okay, that I love him just for being him and no matter what I would always be there for him. He promised again to stop in Vancouver the next time he was coming to Canada to visit his family.

That's not going to happen now.

Three weeks ago Frank, my friend - probably my oldest friend, dropped dead at 38.

I have known him for 19 years - half his life and just over half of mine. He was my friend for my entire adult life. I am glad he is my friend. I wouldn't love many of the things I do without his influence. He was the Edina Monsoon to my Patsy Stone. My life has an empty space where my Eddie should be. I'm sorry he won't be here to see what we all amount to.

Lastly, I hope they can find him an urn that he would be caught dead in. Sometimes fabulous friends can be high maintenance even in death.

"But is it art, Eddie?"

I hope so.

1 comment:

  1. You captured him very well. Thank you. I can see his every move in your words.

    As far as the urn...he won't be getting the one he would want because, apparently, they don't make them. I went to the source and none were to be found. Perhaps on the other side of the world a final resting place can be found good enough, and fashionable enough for our Frank. And yes, if I get my way, it WILL be art.