Over our lifetimes, we make hundreds of friends.  Some for a short time, and some stick around with us for ages.  It has been my experience that the friends that I have made during the most pivotal points in my life have been the ones that I hold dear.  I’ve lost a few of these over the years, but losing my friend Joe has been extremely painful for me. 

Joe and I met way back when I was just turning twenty-one.  My life was about to light up like a Roman candle, and Joe would be a catalyst for the hi-jinks. We didn’t always make the best life choices, but we had a whole lot of fun – and the stories – the stories I ought not tell! 

More importantly, my friend Joe saw everything through beautiful rainbow prism eyes.  Everything in his world would become more wonderful when he would spin the stories we shared.  My new bag became “the most gorgeous new bag, black of course because what else would she carry!” It felt good. Just being around him.  He had all types of friends, from hicks he swilled cheap beers out of the can with to socialites he sipped champagne with from crystal stemware. He never made me feel like less than the perfect me. He knew the things that you secretly loved about yourself, and he always cheered you on. 

He once described my mid 1960s Ranch Style home, as a gorgeous little white cottage, with flowers planted all around it, on a cute little farm.  It wasn’t untrue, but it also wasn’t completely accurate.  All I can remember thinking was – I want to live there!  He should have written real estate copy. He could wrap a lifestyle in the best truths, and leave everyone begging for more.  He had really great, albeit expensive, taste.  Art, clothes, cars, houses – nothing but the best. His super sparkle lifestyle had a bit of a price tag, but most of the time it was completely worth it. 

He had dark secrets and sadness, but he didn’t dwell in those places often.  There are things that he told me that I will take to my grave. There were times that we drifted apart, just to come crashing back together over cocktails. He was always at the other end of the phone when you called, and that is one thing that I haven’t been able to get passed. I miss catching up with him on the phone.  He was a natural born storyteller, and I could hang on his words for hours. I won’t delete his number from my phone. It would take a whole novel to write just the things I shared with him, and maybe someday I will write it down. 

Joe’s passing gave me a push.  I had been toying with the idea of writing a book about how aging has been freeing for me, and when he left, so suddenly, I decided that the time is now. Tomorrow isn’t promised and all that. I also decided that it was worth the risk to go out on my own, and leave my stagnate job. That decision still makes me nauseous from time to time, but Joe would have told me to go for it.  He would have told me that I’m smart, driven, and capable. He is the voice in my head now that combats all the nay-saying voices. I will never have another Joe, but this one was all I’ll ever need. He’ll be cheering me on in my head forever I hope. 

I hope to be the voice of fabulous reason in someone else’s head someday.  That would complete our perfect linage. 

Thank you, Joe, for the crazy ride.