Friend of a Lifetime

This column got its name 18 years before I started writing it. I was a "non-traditional" student enrolled in the graduate program in Communications at the California University of Pennsylvania, and I was writing a column about my experiences entitled "Rip Wakes Up" for the California Times, the campus newspaper.

Each semester the Times staff put out a parody edition and in that semester's Hard Times, my good friend and fellow grad student Jeff did a parody of my column entitled  "Rip Aches All Over," which turned out to be the perfect name for the column I was going to write 18 years later.  It was not the last time Jeff would give me what I needed before I knew I needed it.

On the surface, Jeff and I seemed like unlikely friends. When we met, I was a woman in my early 30's with a full time job, a husband and a toddler taking evening classes to complete my degree.  Jeff was a 23-year-old full time grad student -very Gen X and one of those inherently "hip" people to whom other people instinctively respond. 

As it turns out, we were kindred spirits who instinctively understood each other, even though other people didn't always "get" exactly who we were.  We were both smart people with offbeat senses of humor and largely unfounded but deeply rooted insecurities.

Jeff and I had some great times in our friendship.  We shared an internship - we spent a day together a week for 10 weeks, eating lunch at the Acropolis (a Greek restaurant in downtown California) and preparing promotional materials for a local landmark.  It was some of the most fun I ever had earning college credits.

We went to see movies that few others would want to see with me, like Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, What's Eating Gilbert Grape?, and Death Becomes Her.  At his insistence, I went to see the performance artist coming to campus even though I generally loathed anyone calling themselves a performance artist, and saw what I still remember all these years later as one of the most awe-inspiring and creative displays of artistry I've ever witnessed.  He introduced me to musicians like Billy McLaughlin and R.E.M.

And we talked. About anything and everything - about relationships and trying to figure out what we wanted to do with our lives; he as a young adult just graduating college, and me as a lady aspiring to be a late bloomer (and I'm still working on it). I probably saved a fortune on therapy because of Jeff.

A few years after we graduated Jeff moved to Seattle.  Although I tried to act like an adult about it, I was very sorry to see him go.  I knew that he would keep in touch, but he also made a point of telling me that no matter where he moved, where he was living, or with whom he was living, I had a place to stay if I needed or wanted one.  

Jeff found his place in the world in Seattle.  He found fulfilling work that he enjoyed and met Ron, his true love and the light of his life.  While I never needed to move in, I did visit twice, and both times his home felt like my home, and Ron and Jeff felt like family - the kind you choose to have.

Jeff and I stayed in touch, moving with the times from exchanging long letters to sending e-mails to being Friends on Facebook, and of course, we were always just a phone call away.  

Jeff and I really came into our own as people in the 20+ years that we were friends.   We went from searching for ourselves to finding true fulfillment and happiness with loving partners in our lives.  

On Sunday, I got the call that you never can expect to get about my wonderful, loving, happy 10-years-younger friend.  Jeff had died suddenly of a massive heart attack at the age of 46.  I couldn't sleep and I couldn't stop crying that night, as I thought about all the moments that made up our friendship.

There is no real way to make sense of it, because there is no sense to it.  Suzie, our friend who called me with the news, said that the only consolation is knowing that he had been very happy in his life, and had lived an incredibly good life.

As I was struggling to express my grief when I got off the phone, my husband, the love and light of my life said it. "You loved him - no, you love him.  You still do."

That's just it.  Jeff and I had as a good a friendship as two people can have, and he knew it, too.  Even though he is no longer just a phone call or a Facebook message away, I can still imagine his face, his grin, and his wonderful laugh.  I will miss him terribly, but he will always be in my heart.  I will always love Jeff.