sad news
I found out today that one of my dad's good friends, my "uncle" Mark, was found dead yesterday.
Mark had problems (Vietnam vet, among other things) and had drifted away from my dad and, to be honest, most of the people in his life, including his wife, children, and on-again-off-again girlfriend. Dad considered Mark to be his best friend. They'd gone through a lot together over the years, and then Mark went out to California about six years back and basically abandoned Dad, never called, never wrote.
My dad's been saying for a couple of years now that he had the feeling that Mark was back in town, and that one day he'd be pumping gas at SuperAmerica and would look up and there'd be Mark. It was just the sort of thing Mark would do. That encounter never happened, but Dad was right- Mark came back to the Cities three years ago, but never got back in touch.
One friend Mark had kept up with was going to meet him for lunch on Thursday- when Mark didn't show, the friend went to his apartment and saw his truck outside. The friend talked the apartment manager into opening the door, and they found Mark on the floor. He'd only been dead for a short time, apparently from a heart attack (he'd had two in the past three years).
He was incredibly patient with me when I was a kid. I would bake him pie when I knew he was coming over for dinner, because pie was his favorite. Pecan pie. As a teenager, I could bribe him with pecan pie for all sorts of car repairs (he was a mechanic by trade). He was one of the slowest eaters I ever knew. He'd promised himself after he got back from 'Nam that he would never bolt a meal again but enjoy them all throughly.
It's sadder the more I think on it. I'm still angry with him for how he treated my dad, but at the same time I think of him dying on the floor by himself and I want to cry.
Mark had problems (Vietnam vet, among other things) and had drifted away from my dad and, to be honest, most of the people in his life, including his wife, children, and on-again-off-again girlfriend. Dad considered Mark to be his best friend. They'd gone through a lot together over the years, and then Mark went out to California about six years back and basically abandoned Dad, never called, never wrote.
My dad's been saying for a couple of years now that he had the feeling that Mark was back in town, and that one day he'd be pumping gas at SuperAmerica and would look up and there'd be Mark. It was just the sort of thing Mark would do. That encounter never happened, but Dad was right- Mark came back to the Cities three years ago, but never got back in touch.
One friend Mark had kept up with was going to meet him for lunch on Thursday- when Mark didn't show, the friend went to his apartment and saw his truck outside. The friend talked the apartment manager into opening the door, and they found Mark on the floor. He'd only been dead for a short time, apparently from a heart attack (he'd had two in the past three years).
He was incredibly patient with me when I was a kid. I would bake him pie when I knew he was coming over for dinner, because pie was his favorite. Pecan pie. As a teenager, I could bribe him with pecan pie for all sorts of car repairs (he was a mechanic by trade). He was one of the slowest eaters I ever knew. He'd promised himself after he got back from 'Nam that he would never bolt a meal again but enjoy them all throughly.
It's sadder the more I think on it. I'm still angry with him for how he treated my dad, but at the same time I think of him dying on the floor by himself and I want to cry.