Rehab Boys

Sherman and Dick

My best friend died at 10:30 Wednesday night. Sherman's daughter phoned today to give me the news. He died at home surrounded by his two girls. It is how he wanted it to happen.

Someone at rehab asked me about him last week. I replied, "I think he is tired and ready to die. At 93-years old, he has the right to make that decision." He was ready to die yet it was so hard for me to hear that.

After I hung up the phone, I burst into tears. Michael was on his way home to take me to the ED at my university hospital and I could barely talked when I phoned to tell him the news. I will deeply miss Sherman. So many times I would forget that we were not contemporaries. There were more than 30-years separating us. All of our conversations and laughs. I will never forget him.

My two rehab boys. Sherman and Dick or, as they would argue, Dick and Sherman. Within a year, both are gone. My life has lost lots of brilliant colors with these two now absent. I absolutely expect to be greeted by them both as I cross into the hereafter.

At Sherman's 90th birthday dinner, his daughter took a photo of me with my two boys. I can't tell you how that photos has helped today and how much I will cherish it forever.

Services will be at graveside. I will be there. I promised him.

UPDATE: The report from the ED doctors was that they felt I have a virus and need to rest for a week to recover completely.