So last week was a tough one up in Boca. Eric's colleague in Cardiology, who I'll call Jay, since that's his name, dropped of a heart attack. Jay had a "sister practice" to Eric's, was a fit 63 year old, and died suddenly -- after collapsing at home, was taken to Boca Hospital where one of his long time partners had him die in his arms.
Eric attended the funeral on Monday, and reported that his adult son and daughter were devastated, as would our kids, but spoke beautifully about how Jay was about his family and friends first, and THEN his successful career. His daughter has a toddler, and they live close, and spoke about how Jay would come by most evenings, as they were getting ready to put the little girl to bed, and would say: "It's not bed time. It's GRANDPA TIME!" and play and read to the toddler before she went to sleep. His son's wife had his first grandson just last week -- instead of a bris in NY, the son flew down for his Dad's funeral.
I could tell Eric was shocked and moved by this -- how could he NOT be? And then we talked long about the nature of our lives -- and reached the same conclusion. We LOVE our lives -- and want many more years. But we have truly served our purpose -- school, careers, financial security for our families -- hell -- even some "generational wealth" we weren't lucky to receive. Our kids are grown and married to great spouses -- we've met a combined FIVE beautiful grandkids.
Sure -- we hope to be around to watch those grandkids grow, and share more time with those near and dear, but if the Big Man takes us -- well -- we'd have zero regrets.
Last night I met Barry, who was on main campus all day for a quarterly C Suite retreat for his hospital. He learned vital lessons -- like middle management is important, and you have to treat patients like cruise lines treat passengers.
Afterwards, we talked about Jay, who neither of us met, but feel a kinship with. Barry added to the discussion that if you feel you HAVEN'T fulfilled your dreams, you can't easily accept being taken from this planet.
I shared with him that his former boss and colleague, who I'll call Judy, since that's her real name, called me last week, which she does when she has a legal question. But this time, it was because Barry hadn't gotten back with her -- was he angry with her? I explained to Judy he was not -- just busy -- and I would encourage him to return her texts and emails.
Judy noted how lucky Eric, Barry, and I were -- it was rare for men to keep close friendships for over four decades like we had. I was 1.5 martinis in when I fielded Judy's call, and I told her deadpan that the secret was that we three were closeted gay men, attracted to each other, and the unrequited lust was was sustained our fraternity so long.
I immediately regretted what I said -- Judy is the HEIGHT of wokeness -- she spearheaded many progressive programs when she was Chair. Had I gone too far? Her answer was silence -- followed by some of the loudest laughter I ever heard. Nah -- I cracked her up with my absurdity. If I WAS gay, I think I'd go for a 20 something Brad Pitt type -- not 60 something Jewish doctors -- not that they're not attractive men for their age.
And that was a key component, too -- the need for laughter.
Yes -- laughter with friends is true manna from above -- and in our time together, Barry, Eric, and I have had more than our fair share.
Our server, who we agreed was a "Ricki type," our friend Mark's first wife, brought the check and we left. I drove Barry to the lot where he had parked -- right by our sacred Building 22 -- the apartment where we lived together nearly 3 years.
And what years those were -- truly coming of age together -- passing from teenager to young men bound for grad school.
We would sit around the formica dining room table there, we three, with other players on that early 80s college stage, and talk and philosophize. What kind of women should we marry. What did we hope to do in our careers? Should we sacrifice money for the good of society? Could we have both? Should we go to Thurmans or D'Pizza for dinner? These were very deep questions.
Paul, my brother and law partner and now a brother to Barry and Eric, too, is 11 years older. He lost his best college friend 2 years ago -- a vital, delightful podiatrist named Frank, who went from enjoying his grandkids, and the fruits of his very hard labor, to hearing he had glioblastoma which took him less than 2 years after that.
One of Paul's closest law school friends, Alan, died before -- of a rare small intestine cancer. Their friendship was more fraught, on account of the fact that Alan, though lovable, was a scoundrel, who lost his law license after his gambling addiction caused him to dip into his trust accounts to pay his debts. OK -- maybe MORE than dip -- he dove deep.
So Paul knows better the loss of these sacred friends. Of the four of us, only one parent survives: Barry's mother Beverly, and she struggles with Parkinson's, needing full time care.
George and Lillian, Hy and Sunny, Marvin and Norma, and Sy are all gone, quite many years now.
We miss them terribly, as I know our kids and grandkids will miss us -- and yet life goes on -- they all served their purposes, too.
D1 often quotes a profound thought, when she talks about the struggles of motherhood to her two gorgeous bear cubs: "The days are so long, and the years are so short."
And so they are -- and we all hope to have many more years.
But rest in peace, Jay the Boca Cardiologist. I never met you but feel you were one of us. May your memory be a blessing. It already is, to those near and dear to you.
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