Moving On

I have an old friend, who I'll call Fred, since that's his name, and I haven't seen him in person for over 10 years. He was the best childhood friend of my ex-friend Vince, who I haven't seen or communicated with in over 4 years. I call Vince "ex friend" because he's cut off all contact with me after I refused to loan him money for a business he had started, and I explained to him that I was forever done loaning money to friends after an awful experience with a prior failed business venture with a different college buddy. It turns out that Vince had cut off Fred as well, following a divorce, where Vince thought Fred took his second ex wife's side. But through the wonder of FaceBook (tm) Fred and I reconnected. He's a Miami native who later in life got a law degree, and moved to Tampa with his wife, who was his high school sweetheart. Three years ago, she died of cancer. Fred moved back to the 305 to go work in a family friend's long time Coconut Grove business. But alas, he's been bereft over the loss of his wife. Fred was always a guy to wear his heart on his sleeve, and, of course, the modern sleeve is FaceBook. Daily, Fred shares how miserable and lonely he is. Every post deals with sadness, and missing his wife. There are photos of the two of them young, and older, with kids, and grand kids, and finally, of his wife's grave. He claims to know he has to move on, but just can't. Recently, he asked his group of friends whether he should get a tattoo of his wife, or whether that would be the death knell of any future lady in his life. The responses were mixed, but most advised against the tattoo... I guess there's something romantic about the notion of being simply unable to be happy without a spouse. My parents were married nearly 40 years when Dad died. Mom was lost for about a year, and then eventually returned to her normal life -- even dating a few fellows, and then ending up in a relationship with Max, a very quiet Detroiter who taught her to like NBA basketball and took out her trash for her. Alas, Max died in his living room chair, and Mom found him sitting there when she went to fetch some food she had kept in his freezer. She called 911 and the Palm Beach Sheriff came, took Max, and told Mom it was ok to remove her frozen food. But her life went on happily, for years more. My father in law died in January -- he and my mother in law neared 70 years of marriage. She misses him, of course, but her life, as a food obsessed, yet obese 91 year old, goes on. She hungers for activities, and Wifey does her best to accommodate her, but she sure wasn't jumping into the hole after my father in law's coffin was lowered. Poor Fred. I feel for the guy, but I also want to shake him. He's turning 60, and is in great health. I want to share with him the great Greg Allman advice from "Ain't Wasting Time No More:" Go on Downtown, baby, and find somebody to love... Part of me wants to meet Fred for a coffee, but I won't. As I age, my wisdom tells me to surround myself with the up beat and happy, not those who drag you down. I just hope Fred's path leads him to a second chapter lady, and he is able to accept her in his life. In the mean time, I guess I'll just quickly skip over his FaceBook (tm) posts...