Wednesday, November 30, 2022


Smartie getting a driving lesson from his grandson.
TAKEN: AUGUST 27th, 2021

I am sitting at my home office desk and a wave of varying emotion just hit. 

It is 3:52pm and gloomier than usual outside.

I can hear the wind howling and my phone is buzzing with severe weather warnings and the radio's been boasting cancelations all afternoon. All of it reminding me what the next few weeks will offer, which is absolutely nothing special.

As my hump day workday ends, my mind began to wonder. Tomorrow is Thursday. And as I have each week since that terrible day last April, I realized that I won’t be getting my weekly call from Smartie tomorrow; or ever again.

I remember the day we met. It was in April of 2004 and we hit it out of the park from the get-go. Both working in manufacturing, we stayed on straight evenings so that we could save big dollars on daycare. An eighteen year friendship, that ended with his death on almost the same day in April that it started.

That said, as I type, it’s like I am stuck. Whenever I mention him to others in passing, I instantly tear up. Which is immediately followed by an apology disclosing, “I just can’t seem to get over his death.”

I feel a true emptiness, and all these months later his absence is still raw. Each time I get try to process why, I wonder if it could be because I wasn’t offered proper closure. 

Because, for obvious reasons, I wasn’t invited to his intimate private service. 

I could make excuses, but the truth of the matter is that I disliked his wife in high school and absolutely detested her by the time their marriage ended. Not looking to expand on why, other than to say he was my friend, and she was not. Either way, he’s gone and I truly miss him.

As I stop typing and glance out the window, I see the snow is now blowing on a 45 degree angle. 

I guess I should get my ass into the kitchen, get some grub going, and feed the pups while we still have hydro.

Once again, thanks for listening to me blather.

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