Legacy Writing 365:141

I have friends who I haven’t been able to spend significant amounts of time with for decades, but if either of us walked into the other’s house today, the conversation would pick up as if the intervening years never happened. And it’s not because we correspond frequently in other ways. We’re part of each other’s souls, and the comfort level is unending.

Then there are friends with whom I was really close at one time, but circumstances or bad choices caused a rift between us, and we let each other go. Sometimes I look back at those relationships with a twinge of regret or nostalgia, but usually moving on is the best course of action–though as I’ve been reminded in recent years as I’ve watched other people’s relationships end, that can be challenging to those who are friends with both parties.

Then there are the people who drift away. We don’t know how or why, but they go from being part of a really intense time in our lives to being friends we see occasionally, to infrequently, to…silence. Suddenly we realize we aren’t sure where they live anymore, what they’re doing, how to reach them by phone. When this happens enough times over the course of our lives, we come to realize that it’s not always necessary to hold tightly to everyone. For the time we were together, we provided exactly what was needed. It’s okay to let go.

For me, Geof is one of those friends. I met him through Steve R, and he was a vital part of the group of us who took care of Steve in the years before he died. As a musician and conductor, Steve needed music when he was in the hospital as much as he needed medication. These were the days before iPods and downloads and online music. Steve had a radio/tape player next to his hospital bed (when that one was later stolen from his apartment, I put one of mine in his room–it still provides music in our garage twenty years later). Steve always listened to NPR, but we also kept a rotating collection of tapes in the hospital for him. Some of them were–well, not mix tapes, but tapes of Steve’s and Geof’s favorite music–that Geof recorded for Steve.

After Steve died, I kept those tapes for a long time, but ultimately they wore out or I had the same music on CDs. As I got rid of them, I kept Geof’s covers. Did I mention that Geof is an artist? Here are four of those covers:

I have only one picture of him. After Steve died, Geof went to Minnesota to visit Steve’s family. They had a favorite restaurant where the owners treated them like the wonderful people they are, and someone took this photo of Geof wearing the obligatory sombrero there. A year or so later, Tom and I repeated this scene on one of our visits to Minnesota.

I have some larger works that Geof gave to Tom and me hanging at The Compound. I hope if by some weird chance he ever happens by this blog, Geof will know that I treasure and take good care of his creations. Also, I still have his book on Egypt that I borrowed and would happily return to him!

Like beautiful music and art, a friend can be a gift who lingers in our memories forever.