Richard
Tuesday, June 12th, 2007 at 4:44 am
The creaking over my head has stopped. It has been in the background so much that most of the time I forgot it was there. Now it’s eerily silent. Once it was an occasional annoyance when I was feeling stressed and frustrated. The times when I really needed silence. Now that silence means that Richard has left the house — finally got out of his beloved rocking chair. Only this time he’s not coming back.
That chair. That’s where he would come home from work and unwind. That’s where he watched his Broncos and scream his head off when they scored. That’s where he would watch as America voted for their favorite idol for six years. That’s where he would watch people decorate other’s homes. That’s where he would watch his Elton John concerts. That’s where he would sit after he would yell for me to come see the latest music video of the bands we both loved. That was where he surveyed his kingdom — from his kinetic throne.
Richard had been in my life since around 1998. I met him when I moved into the basement apartment of the house he and Clayton shared. Richard was quiet, guarded and protective of what was his — his dogs, his friends, his rocking chair and his partner of 18 years, Clayton. But mostly his dogs. He loved Golden Retrievers and there has been one in his life as far back as I’ve known him. There are pictures everywhere of the ones in his life. Sydney and Roo were the ones with him when he quietly let go of his life.
His health problems were well known - diabetes, liver transplants, and his digestive tract — oy! I wouldn’t even go into that. Let’s just say we had to pick out shoes to match his ‘bag’. This last slip into unconsciousness wasn’t his first. He had fought back to life on other occasions. Seemingly to make sure some unfinished business was taken care of, but I always thought it was something else. I think he kept coming back to spite Clayton. No, go ahead and laugh. Clayton has said it, too. Their relationship for a few years seemed to be on the brink of imploding. Their bouts of shouting would ring through the house sometimes so intensely that I would call a friend to see if I could ride it out elsewhere. They would always make up though. They would always apologize to me as well. The strongest commonality the two had was making others in their house feel like it was their home. They were both embarrassed when that was not the case.
This time; however, was different. It’s the first I can remember where things in his life and in those he loved were going well. He had a good job even if his boss was an ass; Clayton was not only gainfully employed, but getting job offers for other places; Roo had settled into the family unit with Sydney accepting her; his financial situation had improved greatly; his mom was working to better herself and his relationship with Clayton was the best it had been in years. Everyone and everything seemed to be in a caring and loved place. There was no need to fight. He could finally relax. There was no need to worry about the pressures our society puts on us in this world anymore.
I truly believe that when he went lifeless in Clayton’s arms for those four terrible minutes on Memorial Day that he was happy and had nothing to regret. So he decided to take one last trip which was delayed by a team of paramedics, a visit to the hospital and a damnable ventilator. Now the delays are over and he is free to get away. But not to his favorite place on Earth, Australia. No, this time he booked a longer flight. It was expensive, but would be worth the 49-year payment plan. It would be a smooth ride that would take him over the land down under and beyond the horizon to places that we — the left behind — can only imagine. A trip that all of us must take sometime.
Where, you may ask. It doesn’t matter. I’ve heard the in-flight service is the best ever experienced.
G’night, mate.
Richard passed away at 12:55 this morning.
June 12th, 2007 at 5:34 am
A nice tribute. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ll be sending thoughts your way.
June 12th, 2007 at 6:24 am
Ahhh, my friend… even in your loss, you inspire us all. Please know you, and the rest of Richard’s family, are in my thoughts and prayers…
June 12th, 2007 at 7:39 am
Beautiful post.
So sorry for Clayton, you, the pupsters and his friends.
xoxo
June 12th, 2007 at 11:22 am
My condolences to you and his family. Its moments like this that make me feel awkward and lacking of some deep morsel of wisdom I could pass on.., and simple condolences rarely seem enough.
June 12th, 2007 at 11:42 am
That was a beautiful tribute Howard… It brought tears to my eyes! Goodbye for now Richard. Have a safe flight to where we all called ‘home’.
June 12th, 2007 at 12:41 pm
Beautiful.
June 12th, 2007 at 12:48 pm
I’m so sorry. You know I’m here if you need anything.
June 12th, 2007 at 1:37 pm
I am truly sorry for the loss of your friend. We should all have friends like you.
June 12th, 2007 at 2:35 pm
“I expect to pass through life but once. If, therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, for I shall not pass this way again.” ~ William Penn
You are a good friend.
June 12th, 2007 at 7:42 pm
What a nice tribute to your friend. I know you will keep him alive in your heart and memories.
You’re in my thoughts.
June 12th, 2007 at 8:40 pm
Sorry to hear about your loss buddy. Your words speak loudly and very eloquently.
June 12th, 2007 at 11:58 pm
This is a beautiful tribute to a wonderful man. I only met Richard twice and I will never forget him and how welcome him and Clayton made me feel when I came to see you.They even cleaned your downstairs apartment for you when I came,and kept fresh flowers downstairs for my enjoyment. He was a truly remarkable man. You were blessed to have him in your life. I am so sorry son for you and Clayton and know that you are all in my prayers. Give my love to Clayton and I love you son so very much. Mom
June 13th, 2007 at 5:47 am
I sat here a full five minutes wondering what to write in the comments section of this post. Comments can sometimes come across as rushed or trite, glib one-liners that don’t begin to touch the emotion a blog entry brings forth in the reader. And so I’m here, writing about the wondering because I don’t know what else to do. Nothing I tap out on my keyboard thousands of miles away in another country can do anything to alleviate the loss and sadness.
But, being human, I’d like to try.
All I can do is note that the love he engendered in you as his friend is a love many would do well to envy and seek for themselves. I am, to resort to cliche albeit heartlfelt, sorry for your loss but yes, as others have said, what a beautiful tribute. He was a nice-looking fella, too, judging from his photo and I always tend to judge people primarily on how they treat and respond to animals - so your pointing out his love of retrievers kind of tells me here was a good soul.
And what a wonderfully long relationship he enjoyed with his soul mate Clayton, for whom I feel enormously today and send light and blessings to, with a wish for comfort and consolation from all those around him.
May be be protected and loved at this time.
I have long believed that the fullest appreciation of those we love only comes when they are no longer in our lives and, in the physical sense, irretrievable. We stack the memories of times spent together like cards, then lay them out to gain the full measure of the person who was.
You paint a picture of your friend which is without sentiment but with a whole lot of love. You honour him by revealing truth, not presenting gloss but showing us instead a person who had, by the time the end came, reached resolution in so many ways and proved himself unique and precious and, by your account, great to spend time with.
You asked me recently how come I was able to extend trust to a friend made far away, never yet met in person, namely yourself. You only need to look at your entries in which you touch upon matters of the heart - to find the answer. And I am - truly, deeply, with intense sadness today - sorry, so very sorry, for the loss of your friend.
xxx
June 13th, 2007 at 5:56 am
[...] send love and light to Howard, whose friend Richard has passed away, and to Clayton, Richard’s partner of many years. [...]
June 13th, 2007 at 7:07 am
I can only echo what Andy has said her. A beautiful elegy to a man who was evidently a evry special friend.
Love light and blessings Howard
June 13th, 2007 at 12:02 pm
Aw, honey.
I’d give you the biggest hug right now!! I am so very sorry to hear about Richard’s passing. Thank you for sharing this little bit of him with us. My sincerest sympathies to Clayton, and to you.
Love you. If you need anything at all, I’m here! :)
June 13th, 2007 at 12:39 pm
*a little behind on reading*
I can only say what everyone else has said. My thoughts are with all of Richards friends and family.
June 13th, 2007 at 1:39 pm
I echo Spicy in finding it hard what to say but can’t reach his eloquence. My thoughts are with you and Richard’s family and friends at this time of loss.
I wish Richard a joyful journey.
June 13th, 2007 at 5:04 pm
My condolences for your loss.
June 14th, 2007 at 4:56 am
My thoughts are with you and his family.
June 14th, 2007 at 3:20 pm
Beautiful tribute, Howard. I’m realizing that I actually met Richard once, had a brief conversation with him about his dogs and shook his hand. He had a sweet face, I remember.
And since we are placing our post-mortem orders, I’d like there to be an immediate party thrown in my honor using all my credit cards before they find out.
June 17th, 2007 at 6:18 pm
thought you might be interested in this tribute to richard if you haven’t already seen it:
http://georgeindenver.wordpres.....-knew-yee/