That's cast rather a gloom over the evening, hasn't it

 That's cast rather a gloom over the evening, hasn't it

    The line is poached from a Monty Python scene where death visits a dinner party and ends up taking the host with him to the underworld after much polite conversation. It seems this is the way that the god damn reaper has quietly fucked up my golden years since many of my precious memories can now be shared only with the dead. I suppose it all started with my friend Teresa who was taken by brest cancer in 2000 after really giving the disease a battle. Teresa and I had some really rough fights in letters but we remained close because we knew eachothers weaknesses and lived with the flaws. We had the rare pleasure of saying our last words together as "I love you." I let her in and she knew the soft spots and the ignorant parts.

I was lucky enough to have a good group of pals that I knew had my back but I never thought about them not being there when I turned to them. When I got a worried call from Nick Caskey I had no idea it would be worse than I could imagine. The fact that Ed Carroll was fixing to die was impossible to grasp but in a couple of  days we all had to swallow this terribly bitter pill. Ed was a rare bird in my life who put up with my temper and moods without ever speaking an unkind word toward me. He was the best of the Gate boys but the Reaper came for him way before any  of us were ready for such profound loss. 

My Mom followd closely after Ed but that was to be expected after her full life. Yet, when your Mother dies it is an atomic bomb in the  heart. Tom Black was in a long battle with cancer and I was not able to see him or communicate much but he was one of the true cool guys of the old crowd with lots of good Tom stories to tell before he settled down with Steph and became a success. I saw him twice in the last decades of our lives but when any of us said Tom we knew who they were talking about.

The pendulum was starting to turn toward loss with too many of the good pals checking out. At this point most of the depression generation mentors were gone and their classic stories were in the books. However, the next cataclysm came in the form of a phone call I got at work from Ian when he just let me have the truth that Tim had died in his sleep.  That was such a shock I cannot explain how I just refused to accept the unthinkable. In truth I did not feel the loss until I stood beside the pulpit at St.Raymonds church to give his eulogy. I had a vision reaction that made it impossible for me to read the words I had written. A siren was blaring in my head that said you have lost half of your self forever. I stood, stunned until my eyesight began to focus and I made a bad job of reading the eulogy, fearing I would black out. Tim would have understood completely that I did not cry or blubber at home. That came much later and with terrible effect. The Spring and Summer of 2015 are another sad story when grief came calling and brought me to my knees. Without Tim, life was not the same and the joy I felt in the world around me was greatly diminished. With the help of a few friends, my brother and my daughter I did manage to trudge forward but began to fear any phone call that might contain further doom.

Zeke called and let me know about Johnny who had been my pal since  I was 8 years old and the rush of childhood memories turned me backwards and upside down. We lived such a similar life only he appreciated. Again, it was another part of me gone. When the J-boy went so did much of my childhood joy.

It was about the same time that I started to notice the lagging spirits of my best friend Greg who was remained tye strong link to all of these people and memories. He seemed to lose interest in my tour through old age and when he was ordered off booze the spark went out completely. I knew years ahead he was on his way off stage and it depressed me but did not create a panic. Greg was no longer the Greg who would light up a room and laugh boisterously late at night. He hunkered and mumbled and could not pick up on my asides. The terrible part was the passage through hospital rooms, rehabilitation facilities and finally his permanent place in a bed in his front room. No need to lie here but when Ed called me and gave me the news there was no tears, no wailing, no wringing of hands except the  tsunami of fear and loss inside my guts. The love and loyalty Greg always gave are irreplaceable. Life is not the same without him.

I write to prove to myself that I am still alive but it is only partially true in view of what the reaper had taken from me and what he has in store in the short time ahead. It has cast rather a gloom over the evening hasn't it?