I have said a lot of goodbyes in my life. Some were easier than others. The most difficult ones were with family and dear friends. This past week, I learned of the death of a friend I’ve known for over fifty years.
Charlie and I met our junior year of college in Luxembourg where our university had recently established a small campus. Actually it was more like an outpost than a campus: a tiny American enclave in a tiny European country.
There were somewhere between forty and fifty of us. The actual numbers seem to have gotten lost in the ensuing decades. A few in our group knew another student but for the most part, we were strangers to each other. We had left the familiar comfort of a beautiful, bucolic campus of Neo-Georgian brick structures for a country in the middle of Europe that most of us knew little or nothing about.
Sometime in the fall semester, I bought a motor scooter. It was a German machine that looked like an inverted bathtub on two wheels. It was made shortly after the end of World War II. It was painted in a shade of gray, possibly from surplus stock left from the war.
On weekends when we weren’t traveling in Europe, we would sometimes hang out at my place. We’d listen to Radio Luxembourg or take turns playing, or more accurately, attempting to play Bob Dylan songs on my twelve string guitar. When it was late in the evening, I’d give Charlie the keys to my scooter so he could drive to his home on the other side of the city rather than walk. He would then bring it back the next morning and I would take him home or into the city to our school.
We weren’t what you would call inseparable but when we were together, there was always an easiness about our friendship. I think a lot of people who knew Charlie would say he was easy to be with. I admired that about him, perhaps because that wasn’t always the case with me. At that time of my life, I was rather intensely introverted and unsure of myself.
I was happy to have one good friend out of a group of strangers. It made all the difference between a year that could have been quite lonely to one that was full of shared experiences and a friendship that has endured all these years.
A few days ago, when I was between clients, I went for a walk to get exercise and to release some of the grief I was holding in. A short distance from my office there is a magnificent oak tree. It had obviously been there for a long time.
The tree was a vast network of thick branches with an intricate pattern of smaller and smaller branches radiating out into a vast canopy. All the leaves that had only a week ago created a kaleidoscope of natures warmest pigments of browns, yellows and reds were off the tree. They were spread out in a luxurious tableau that rivaled any of the best impressionist paintings I have seen.
One particular leaf lay exposed on top of the others. It was vibrant in its coloring and perfect in shape. It was still supple from the dampness left by a recent rain. I picked it up and admired it. I thought I would take it back to my office where I could continue to enjoy its qualities. But as I started to walk over the mosaic of fallen leaves, I felt that, in a way, I was taking this leaf for my own pleasure from where it actually belonged. The truth was, within a few days the leaf would become brittle and lose its colors that I so admired. I let it fall to the ground where it would join with the other leaves in providing a protective mulch for the coming winter.
This is how I think of my friend. He has drifted down from the tree of life. His body will return to the elements that make up the basis for future generations. His friendship will continue to enrich my life and all those he touched. He is the colors of autumn. He is the future. He is the past. He will be in my heart until I float down from my own leafy perch.
Thank you Charlie for being my friend when I needed a friend. Thank you for all our years of friendship.
Ti amero per sempre
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A special thank you to all my readers for letting me share with you memories of my friend. I am deeply grieving his death. It came way too soon but then isn’t that always the case with people we love?. He was a very fine person. I ache for his wife and family. I appreciate you and welcome your feedback.
Love the ones you are with and the ones you wish you could be with. Life is so short and so precious. Be safe. Be well.
*”Con te partiro”,”Time to Say Goodbye” is an Italian song written by Francesco Sartori and Lucio Quarantotto. If you haven’t heard it, listen to Sara Brightman and Andrea Bocelli sing it. Have tissues handy.
Bruce, my goodness, what a beautiful tribute to our sweet brother Charlie.
We, too, miss him terribly. He is gone too soon and we all grieve for him.
I believe that he had a good life and we’ll be together again one day.
Thank you for sharing your memories.
Take care,
Sally Fowler Day
Dear Bruce, thank you for your kind and caring words about my brother, Charlie. We talked about you from time to time. He’d update me on how you were doing. I miss him terribly. He was my biking buddy and favorite brother. I know Debbie is doing best she can. One day at a time.
Best to you and happy thanksgiving!
Connie Fowler Strait