Recent Splats according to Miz Yank

Ninety percent of friendship is just showing up

[Posting the Aug. 29 entry a day late because I wound up without wi-fi…]

I try to live by the principle that ninety percent of friendship is just showing up. But I come up short sometimes, and that’s been particularly true with respect to a friend I’ll call Dave.

We met in the late 1990s at a birthday party for my dear friend LC and we’ve been pals ever since. We did typical friend stuff—grab dinner, go to the occasional concert, catch a ballgame –but he also showed up for me and all of his friends in ways that weren’t typical.

For example, when an on-and-off boyfriend broke up with me for the umpteenth time in 1999 and then left the area, Dave arrived bearing hugs and adult beverages. Instead of being praised for his kindness (something he certainly deserved but never expected), the only recognition he got on that occasion came from my cat, who left a hairball of gratitude on Dave’s shoes.

A few months later, when I’d been exiled to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base for a three-week course, Dave again came to my rescue. He gave me frequent flyer miles so I could meet him in Chicago and pal around for a weekend. (Dave is a big baseball fan, so we found it necessary to sneak in to Wrigley Field during that trip.)

In September of 2002, Dave was among the crew who helped me load up the contents of my one-bedroom apartment into a U-Haul and move it to my parents’ basement and my friend LC’s house. Few acts will land you in my friendship Hall of Fame faster than volunteering to assist with a move. You earn extra points if you make me laugh while you’re at it, which Dave did by taking a recliner we were moving, plopping it in my parents’ front yard and taking a load off.

A couple of years later, Dave met Ann, a warm, kind, caring and hilarious person who made my friend happier than I’d ever seen him. I adored her, too, as much for her epic personality as the way she embraced his circle of friends.

Dave and Ann gave me a chance to show up for them in 2006 by asking me to do a reading at their wedding. I was so honored that I straightened my hair for the occasion. A few years later they became parents to a beautiful daughter and I took huge delight in their joy.

They took equally huge delight in mine in October of 2010, beaming at me as I spoke my wedding vows. When I left my husband less than a year later, they felt my heartbreak and were among the first to offer support, consolation, and wine.

Just as I was trying to piece my life back together, theirs began to disintegrate.

First, a blood disorder Dave had wrestled with his entire life claimed his sight, one eye at a time. Then came the pulmonary lymphoma, which my friend battled and beat, with Ann at his side the whole time. His bravery, her dedication and their determination astonished me.

Not long after that, what I believe would be labeled a neurological event (they’ve endured so many medical calamities in such a short time that I struggle to get the details right) landed him in assisted living in Loudoun County, where he remains and is likely to remain.

Ann shows up there every day. I hadn’t shown up at all.

I changed that today. Finally.

I was excited to see my friend but also a little nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. I also worried that words might fail me, either because I didn’t have any to say at all –it doesn’t feel quite right to talk about your very normal life to someone whose existence has been turned upside down — or because the wrong ones might come flying out. “This is so unfair!” seemed particularly likely to break free of the thought bubble it’s been floating in for quite some time. And then I got annoyed at myself for making this visit more about me than him.

This jumble of thoughts may explain why, when I went to sign in, I identified myself as a resident instead of a visitor. On resolving that minor error, I headed up to Dave’s room and knocked on the open door to announce myself. Because he couldn’t get up to greet me, I asked if it was okay to hug him.

Dave still being Dave — which, selfishly, came as a huge relief  –he welcomed my chair hug and everything else about my visit. We covered comfortable subjects, like my family, our sports teams, and some of my travel adventures, and then I asked about his health. My questions came out clumsily, but Dave didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to know I wanted to understand as much as possible, and he wanted to help me.

Even though my friend now struggles to get out of a chair, he can still teach a master class in the art of showing up. And he reminded me that late is better than never.

 

 

 

 

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