The retirement is done, the goodbye
parties and holiday feasts are now memories. His books now sit in a pasteboard box
on the deacon’s bench in my living room waiting to find their place on my
shelves. We had a wonderful time talking over each one as it went into the box,
virtually all of them about religion, spirituality and politics. It was an hour
that reflected our last 25 years of friendship.
In my yard are the potted
plants that will not survive the cold of Missouri and the plants dug up from
the yard itself waiting to be planted in my jungle. They will become the
sacraments of our friendship, the outward and visible sign of the inward
and spiritual grace of a loving relationship once nearby and constant, soon to be distant and occasional.
Tomorrow about noon, my friends
will leave on the first leg of the journey into the next phase of their lives
together, the pods containing their worldly goods following shortly behind. My friend
of 25 years heads for a new life in a strange place with all the time in the
world to find a new life, retirement arriving just days ago.
His husband heads for a new life in academia, a newly minted Ph.D. and currently a permanent instructor as myself, hoping to hear good news from the 50 applications for tenure track positions he has put out across the country. Their two Vizlas, my bosom buddies whom I have spoiled miserably with food from more than one holiday banquet table, accompany them, the humid warmth of Florida soon to give way to the extreme heat and cold of the heartland.
His husband heads for a new life in academia, a newly minted Ph.D. and currently a permanent instructor as myself, hoping to hear good news from the 50 applications for tenure track positions he has put out across the country. Their two Vizlas, my bosom buddies whom I have spoiled miserably with food from more than one holiday banquet table, accompany them, the humid warmth of Florida soon to give way to the extreme heat and cold of the heartland.
My heart is broken this
night. I feel a good chunk of my soul has been ripped loose and is being spirited
away. And yet, I know that the wheel of life turns, nothing is forever, letting
go is required of everything and everyone in our lives and, at the end, of our
very lives themselves. Our ongoing task is learning how to let go.
I know that intellectually
and perhaps even existentially. And yet, tonight, all I feel is pain.
“Are you OK,” I asked him tonight as he packed the last remaining boxes in the chaos of their once vibrant home. “Not at all,” he replied. And my observation is that he is being candid about that. At one point he said, “I feel like Janis Joplin: ‘Take it! Take another little piece of my heart now, baby! Oh, oh, break it! Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, oh, have a! Have another little piece of my heart now, baby, You know you got it if it makes you feel good’”
Much as I admired Joplin,
that is not the song that expresses my broken heart this night. In the early
1970s I went to see a foreign film, Friends,
which featured the music of the then-new musician Elton John. I loved the film,
the artwork and the music. I even reproduced the album cover for a poster on my
wall in my undergraduate dorm. In particular, I always felt the title song, Friends, spoke to my understanding of
the world, the deep human need for friends and the duty to express my gratitude
to those who had made my way through life “a lighter highway.”
Last Stop
I have sent the link below
and the lyrics to my friends with the instructions “Don’t read this until you
are on your way.” I already dread their last stop by our home tomorrow to leave
the keys to their now abandoned house and I pray to keep some level of
composure as I watch my friends drive away to a new life.
At the conclusion of The
Wizard of Oz, the tin man (whom I played
once in a theatrical production in my younger days) reports “Now I know I have a heart because it’s
breaking.” This eve of the departure of my dear friends, I think I know
what he means. And yet, it is Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem in which I find
solace this night: “'Tis better to have
loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
No doubt I will know this
one day.
To my friends, I send you
forth with this song. Godspeed, my dear ones. No matter how far you might roam, never forget
your friends here in Florida and know that you are fondly remembered and deeply
loved.
I hope the day will
be a lighter highway
For friends are
found on every road
Can ever think of
any better way
For the lost and
weary travelers to go?
Making friends for the world to see
Let the people know
you got what you need
With a friend at
hand you will see the light
If your friends are
there then every thing's all right
It seems to me a crime that we should age
These fragile times
should never slip us by
A time you never
can or shall erase
As friends together
watch their childhood fly
Making friends for the world to see
Let the people know
you got what you need
With a friend at
hand you will see the light
If your friends are
there then every thing's all right
I pray my tears will relent
long enough for me to post this.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Rev. Harry
Scott Coverston, J.D., M.Div., Ph.D.
Member, Florida Bar (inactive status)
Priest, Episcopal Church (Dio. of El Camino Real, CA)
Asst. Lecturer: Humanities, Religion, Philosophy of Law
University of Central Florida, Osceola Campus, Kissimmee
If the unexamined
life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious
or political, is not worth holding.
Most things of
value do not lend themselves to production in sound bytes.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
1 comment:
Harry, Great tribute to friendship. Hope the heaviness in your heart passes quickly. Agape, Mike
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