So Long, and Thanks For All The Fish
Simba: I know what I have to do. But going back means I'll have to face my past. I've been running from it for so long.
[Rafiki hits Simba on the head with his stick]
Adult Simba: Ow! Jeez, what was that for?
Rafiki: It doesn't matter. It's in the past.
Simba: Yeah, but it still hurts.
Rafiki: Oh yes, the past can hurt. But from the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it."
Nothing causes more deep reflection than the passing of an old friend.
Some 20 years after I first met him, my friend Rafeki (no relation to the baboon) died Monday at the ripe young age of 42.
I hadn't seen him in a while, and truth be told, he didn't look good then either. He had a drinking problem for years and had gained a lot of weight (the latter being true for me as well). He had long lived the kind of "today is all that matters" lifestyle that defined him and ultimately killed him.
There wasn't really anyone like Raf. He was brash, outspoken, witty and occasionally a bit self-centered. But hanging out with him was almost always a good time, at least until the last few declining years. He introduced me to anime, got me my first real computer, was the only friend within driving distance when I lived in Tennessee. We played racquetball, watched horror movies, mini golfed... Raf's sense of humor was almost always in action, as was his impatience with noisy or poorly behaved children. It wouldn't really be completely accurate to call those the "good ol days" but somehow it feels like that anyway.
Looking back is like remembering a completely different part of my life, and makes me feel older than I am. Yet, I am still here, still planning for the future... and he isn't. Why did we stop talking, stop hanging out? It just happened, we met other people, grew apart, his crowd and mine weren't the same anymore. Then his boyfriend died unexpectedly in a freak accident and somehow that felt like the beginning of the end, even though I didn't realize it at the time. Maybe that really set off the drinking. I didn't talk to him enough at that point to know.
I looked in my phone to see when the last time I'd interacted with him was. 5 years, a short and typically unmeaningful message about coming over to hang out. Did I know it would probably come to this? Actually, yes. You could tell when you looked at him or talked to him. Why didn't I say something? Because Raf wasn't the kind of person who could be told what to do or how to live. He might pretend to listen to your advice and even seem to consider it, but you knew in the end he'd do whatever he wanted to, even if it meant self-destruction.
Life plays tricks on you. I think most of us never anticipate the growing discrepancy with how old we feel in our heads versus how old our bodies feel as the years go by. Things can both seem like they happened only yesterday and seem like another lifetime. The side effect of the reality that most of my friends are gay (or don't really want kids) means that we have a lot more time for mid-life crises and reflection. If I had an outsider's perspective, I'm sure I could see just how much I've accomplished so far. But it feels like the clock is always ticking, racing when you wish it was slow and crawling when you want it to run.
On a shelf where Rafeki used to live with mutual friends (before he for all intents and purposes moved out without actually moving most of his things out) sits several rows of DVD sets, obscure anime and TV series. The cases are thick with dust and heavily faded from constant exposure to the sun. Some of them are so damaged that they can barely be read anymore. Every time I went there I would look at the faded discs and think how I would never treat my discs that way. If he'd ever been around to chastize about it, I'm sure he'd have shrugged and said "they're just discs. Who cares?"
I cared, Raf. We had some great times, didn't we? I hope it was all worth it. If you really believed it was to better to burn out than fade away, couldn't you have had some kind of farewell tour like retiring athletes do, so we could have said our proper goodbyes? You can wish someone a belated birthday, but if you don't get your wishes in before the deadline on the other day, Hallmark can't help you.
I wish I had all those hilarious nights on Blu Ray to put in and relive in HD clarity, but all I have is the dust covered, sun faded memories in my head.
Those will have to do.
Goodbye, Raf.
[Rafiki hits Simba on the head with his stick]
Adult Simba: Ow! Jeez, what was that for?
Rafiki: It doesn't matter. It's in the past.
Simba: Yeah, but it still hurts.
Rafiki: Oh yes, the past can hurt. But from the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it."
Nothing causes more deep reflection than the passing of an old friend.
Some 20 years after I first met him, my friend Rafeki (no relation to the baboon) died Monday at the ripe young age of 42.
I hadn't seen him in a while, and truth be told, he didn't look good then either. He had a drinking problem for years and had gained a lot of weight (the latter being true for me as well). He had long lived the kind of "today is all that matters" lifestyle that defined him and ultimately killed him.
There wasn't really anyone like Raf. He was brash, outspoken, witty and occasionally a bit self-centered. But hanging out with him was almost always a good time, at least until the last few declining years. He introduced me to anime, got me my first real computer, was the only friend within driving distance when I lived in Tennessee. We played racquetball, watched horror movies, mini golfed... Raf's sense of humor was almost always in action, as was his impatience with noisy or poorly behaved children. It wouldn't really be completely accurate to call those the "good ol days" but somehow it feels like that anyway.
Looking back is like remembering a completely different part of my life, and makes me feel older than I am. Yet, I am still here, still planning for the future... and he isn't. Why did we stop talking, stop hanging out? It just happened, we met other people, grew apart, his crowd and mine weren't the same anymore. Then his boyfriend died unexpectedly in a freak accident and somehow that felt like the beginning of the end, even though I didn't realize it at the time. Maybe that really set off the drinking. I didn't talk to him enough at that point to know.
I looked in my phone to see when the last time I'd interacted with him was. 5 years, a short and typically unmeaningful message about coming over to hang out. Did I know it would probably come to this? Actually, yes. You could tell when you looked at him or talked to him. Why didn't I say something? Because Raf wasn't the kind of person who could be told what to do or how to live. He might pretend to listen to your advice and even seem to consider it, but you knew in the end he'd do whatever he wanted to, even if it meant self-destruction.
Life plays tricks on you. I think most of us never anticipate the growing discrepancy with how old we feel in our heads versus how old our bodies feel as the years go by. Things can both seem like they happened only yesterday and seem like another lifetime. The side effect of the reality that most of my friends are gay (or don't really want kids) means that we have a lot more time for mid-life crises and reflection. If I had an outsider's perspective, I'm sure I could see just how much I've accomplished so far. But it feels like the clock is always ticking, racing when you wish it was slow and crawling when you want it to run.
On a shelf where Rafeki used to live with mutual friends (before he for all intents and purposes moved out without actually moving most of his things out) sits several rows of DVD sets, obscure anime and TV series. The cases are thick with dust and heavily faded from constant exposure to the sun. Some of them are so damaged that they can barely be read anymore. Every time I went there I would look at the faded discs and think how I would never treat my discs that way. If he'd ever been around to chastize about it, I'm sure he'd have shrugged and said "they're just discs. Who cares?"
I cared, Raf. We had some great times, didn't we? I hope it was all worth it. If you really believed it was to better to burn out than fade away, couldn't you have had some kind of farewell tour like retiring athletes do, so we could have said our proper goodbyes? You can wish someone a belated birthday, but if you don't get your wishes in before the deadline on the other day, Hallmark can't help you.
I wish I had all those hilarious nights on Blu Ray to put in and relive in HD clarity, but all I have is the dust covered, sun faded memories in my head.
Those will have to do.
Goodbye, Raf.