5th February 07:51
Separating himself from Baghdad Bob, Murchadh <firstname.lastname@example.org> whined:
I had the same thing happen several years ago.
Had a lunch arrangement with a friend, but when I called,
I found out he'd been rushed to the hospital, and had died soon after.
It's hard to not get to say goodbye.
Not one you need to dwell on.
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Lumber Cartel (tinlc) #2063. Spam this account at your own risk.
It's your SIG, say what you want to say....
5th February 07:51
Unfortunately, that is the price of life...
As we get older, we must come to grips with it.
For a younger person, some sob story is requsite.
As our time comes nearer, the inevitable becomes
I can remember the look on my grandmother. She
passed on about 6 mo after she broke her hip. She
couldn't stand to be confined to her apartment.
Before she passed on, she told me about many of her
relatives and friends--all had passed on. My wife commented when we left
that she was ready to go, too.
My wife has a similar story about her mother.
As you well know, Murchadh, we all have our time and there are certainly
some terrible wys of leaving this place. I hope your friend passed on
peacefully and quickly and that he did what he had to do while here.
Although, I know if he was your friend, he was an honorable man.
Certainly, remember him and mourn him appropriately, but remember how
careful our Chinese friends are about letting ghosts follow them home. That
is both literally and figuratively.
I know that you are a survivor. Hard times always pass into better ones. Do
not let it get you down so far that you can not enjoy your own days.
6th February 06:42
Thank you all for your kind and thoughtful replies. I find it very
hard to lose a good friend. This was a man who roistered through life
with a total disregard for convention, yet had a large, sympathetic
heart and was one of the few people who really could be counted on
when the chips were down.
He was a member of the famous Patrick hockey family (cf. the US
Patrick Division) and was a superb sailor and deepsea fisherman. He
adored my wife and took me on a cruise when she died. He was a huge,
tough-looking man, yet was a lover of books and poetry; in particular
Japanese haiku, in which he awakened my own interest.
As I write, I weep. I was never good at farewells.
7th February 05:39
I returned late yesterday from the celebrations of my Grandson's
birth to the news that my old friend Jock had died of cancer and
was to be buried this morning.
My wife and I were there amongst the many whose life he touched.
It is truly a roller-coaster of emotion for me. He will not be forgotten.
You have my sincere condolences.
The loss of a friend is hard to take.
I had this to say of Jock a couple of months ago on this group.
I first met Jock about ten years ago.
It was just a casual meeting amongst mutual friends.
I didn't know at the time that both he and I would have so
many points of contact.
A year or two later, we both joined the same local Walking Club,
and so began the first of a thousand conversations that would span
every topic under the sun.
Jock was an engineer, and had worked mainly for the legendary
John Brown Engineering group until retirement at 65 years.
It so happened that I had been contracted to carry out work for JBE
myself on three occasions. I guess that was the first point of contact.
Jock, now in his advanced seventies, has had an interesting career in
Education as well as Engineering. He was born a man of the Clyde
and became an acknowledged expert on Steam Raising Plant, and it
can truly be said that when Jock passes on, another little bit of
Scotland's proud heritage of Engineering will pass into history.
He's the kind of man who keeps Reifler Drafting tools, and
Vernier Callipers and things in a wee glass case along with his
'spying glass' and an old Russian chronometer he got from a member
of a visiting delegation of Russian Engineers. Jock has respect.
Above all he has respect for his heritage.
Over many a dram, we have tested the idiocy of religious separation to
destruction. Jock, a devoutly benign and tolerant Catholic of Irish
descent, joshed with my own peculiarly eclectic brand of Presbyterianism.
In any event, we, both of Irish descent have solved all of the problems
of Northern Ireland and the rest of the world time and time again.
This wee story, I think, typifies the character of the man.
A few years ago Jock got to hear of the death of a wee old man in
our town. In itself it was not a tragedy for he had had a good life,
and died in his sleep.
However the old man had a wee dog, Ben, and it was evident that
there was no one to look after him. It just so happened that the very first
person to volunteer to care for the wee dog was a chap called Ronnie,
who was as poor as he was generous. On hearing of this Jock placed
£250 in an envelope and stuck it through his letter box, with a note
saying that it was for food for the wee dog and that there would be
more when that ran out. Jock is ever a practical in his generosity..
Jock is philosophical about the cancer, I think mainly because
he 'knows' that a place has been prepared for him, and in the main,
it has been a good life well lived.
Soon, very soon, Jock would like to visit the huge Millennium Wheel
at Falkirk, and I will be honoured to take him there. It will delight the
eyes of an old engineer.
I will miss Jock's singing. Singing that had more than a touch of the late
John McCormack. I will miss his spontaneous renderings of some of the
finest writings in the English language. I shall miss his childlike
appreciation of a fine view on a beautiful day.
I shall miss his great big Irish heart.
11th February 02:05
It is hard message but I think we are mostly of that age when we are
starting to see our loved ones fall by the way side.
Loved ones do not necessarily mean family, because it is often true
that a real friend has meant more to us than our own kith and kin.
An other step to our own oblivion doesn't make it any easier to bear.
Felicitations and warm hugs Murchadh