Making It Up As I Go Along #424

Not Yet 80
Last week, I wrote a poem about my most common times with my friend, Karl. We’ve been friends for about five years and the most common thing we’ve done together is take that walk from his apartment, across the Rideau River along the Bank Street bridge, through the Glebe neighbourhood... the commercial section that reminds me of Water Street back home... and to Patty’s Pub.

At the pub, we’d have a meal and a drink. Sometimes sitting and quietly catching up... other times checking our watches to make sure we wouldn’t be late for the movie a few blocks further, at the Mayfair.

Funny how different things stand out in friendships. I have some friends I can only speak about sports with. Other friends, we’ll joke about reality shows. There are some I’m comfortable with in the confines of work, but if I met them along a downtown street on the weekend, we’d look at each other awkwardly, each wondering how the other encroached on our territory.

Over the years, I’ve done many things with Karl. We went to King Kong for a late night showing one New Years Eve. The years clicked over from one to the other sometime around Kong’s assent of the Empire State Building. Our Happy New Year wishes waited until the movie’s credits.

Karl took me on my first trip to Gatineau Park. And guided me through some trails of Mer Bleue as well.

But the great majority of our times together have been along that corridor between his apartment and the Mayfair.

Last week, we took that walk again. Going as far as the pub for a supper and some much needed catching up after months of not seeing each other. The question remains though, will we do that walk again?

I’ve had friendships fade away. People I’ve sat and had a drink with... attended parties with... gotten together at cabins with. Past moments in time shared with current strangers.

And I’ve had friendships come to screaming halts over emotional outbursts. Silly differences of opinion that resulted in a friend disappearing from my life.

But in Karl’s case, it’s none of this. Karl is dying.

You know all along that there will come a time in your life when you’ll watch a friend fade away. You just expect that such times will come when you’re both into your 70s or 80s. And I have childhood acquaintances who have since died. But we had lost touch long before and my hearing of their deaths has been as a footnote on distant memories. Thinking of that buddy from Cubs who shot milk out his nose while trying to suppress a laugh at summer camp... knowing that he’s no longer there.

It’s a definite moment of pause and reflection... but not necessarily an earth changing moment when getting the news of their passing.

Yes, I think it’s safe to say that Karl’s situation is a first for me. Almost three months ago, we met for one of our walks to the pub. All was as in previous times. Chatting about work. Taking a peek at the ducks from the bridge. I wonder aloud how much one of the hand made, wooden rocking chairs would be, as we pass a fine furniture store. He spoke, with contentment about his growing relationship with a girl who was his friend for a year... she was an old friend who he reconnected with about a year ago... and now they’re in love. I ask if it’s good... he smiles and says “oh yes.”

We ended that evening with a handshake and agreement that he’ll have to come to my place for some old style record playing.

Two weeks later, an e-mail from his father told me Karl has cancer. Little more than two weeks ago... some two months after that e-mail from his dad... I get another message saying Karl has about another two months to live.

Funny how quickly a world can change. I’m sitting, bored at work and about to get up to go to lunch, and my Blackberry gives a little vibration with a message telling me my friend won’t see another snowfall.

Another thing that’s funny is that I’d always expected that whenever the day would come that I’d sit with a dying friend... some forty years from now... I would have to be strong for that friend. I’d have to sit there and let them share their fears... their anger. This wasn’t the case with Karl.

With Karl, we met as always. A handshake in front of his building... he asking how I am... me asking the same. The only difference this time was that I added a slap on the shoulder with my left hand as we shook. An extra umph to show it’s good to see him.

And we walked along as normal. Speaking of the traffic I encountered getting to him. And talking about summer plans... me with my family soon arriving. He, a trip to Vermont planned with his.

At the restaurant, conversation went as normal. Pauses of silence broken by tidbits of information. Only in previous conversations of this type, he’d mention a painting he finished, or a movie he went to, just he and his father. On this occasion, he told me how his parents just bought him a burial plot at Beechwood Cemetery. Us sitting between a small dinner party to my left and an elderly eating couple to my right... and Karl told me this with the same ease one would use when mentioning the purchase of a new CD.

He told me with so much normalcy in his tone, that I was put at ease by it. I remember telling co-workers of this part of our evening, and their reaction being one of shock... wondering how one hears something like that without crawling out of their skin. And I figured I would have cringed with his words too. But I didn’t. He told me and I told him it sounds nice. And we carried on in our talk over chicken tenders and salad.

Karl has had it tough for several years now, and his diagnoses seems to have given him a feeling of contentment. I guess when you go for years, wondering how you’re going to manage the years ahead... and then you suddenly find out that you actually only have months to go... you can feel like a great weight has been lifted. I only say “I guess” here... because I have no idea what goes through your head when hearing such news as Karl heard a few weeks ago.

We scoot through our lives, giving extraordinary amounts of importance to extraordinarily unimportant matters. Around the same period in time that Karl was finding out he had months to live, I was sputtering and complaining about the snoring of strangers on the other side of a curtain during physiotherapy.

I was inconvenienced spending upwards of six hours a week, trying to strengthen my knee enough to avoid surgery. And he was sitting... deciding between a treatment that would make him so sick, it alone, could kill him... or just letting life come to an end without that fight.

Such differences made me feel silly when he asked me how my knee is doing. The surgery threat I faced became no more than a hang nail... and I rushed through my answer, wanting the subject finished as quickly as possible.

And so I find myself thinking often of Karl. Wondering how his trip to Vermont is going. Knowing he’s at peace with the time that remains. And I think of our walks along Bank Street. Of winter evenings, dark and still with gentle snow. Ears and noses almost frozen by the time we reach the pub... we unwrap layers and plunk down in seats along the fireplace.

I think of those times when the Happy Waitress is there to serve us. Trista is her name but for the first half dozen or so times she served us, we only knew her as the Happy Waitress. One of those women who glows with a gentle, easy, friendliness... when she’d leave our table, Karl and I would look at each other a smile... “She’s good” he’d say. “Oh yeah” I’d nod.

Some evenings, our return walk to Karl’s apartment would follow winding routes as we’d detour from the bustle of Bank Street and stroll the residential roads and avenues a block over. Nights along there would be quiet. A living room lamp giving us a peek into other lives. Glimpses even. The time it takes for three steps along the sidewalk gives us a distant view of a painting on a wall. Four more steps sees the outline of a man, hunched over the dining room table as he drifts through the newspaper. His form is shrouded by drapes as we pass by.

On a driveway, a cat is curled up into a shape resembling a loaf of bread... it’s head slowly turning with our passing... keeping a sharp eye on us as we go by.

These streets are where Karl took me the first time we met outside of work. I rented a bike and he toured me through this neighbourhood. Pointing out streets he grew up on... telling me stories of his childhood as we pause for a snack... standing along the side of the road, allowing our bikes to lean against our legs as we munch on granola bars.

I hope to be able to make these walks with Karl again. To once again stop for a meal and smile to each other after Trista, our waitress goes with our order. But the next meeting will not be along Bank Street. I’ll host our next meeting. As Karl shall come to my place... we’ll order a pizza... and go through records, picking favourites to play on my turntable.

MONDAY...
— Hottest day I’ve seen. At 4:00 this afternoon, the humidex reached 46 degrees. I’m not outside for much of it though.

TUESDAY...
— Not as hot but I’m in it more. Played RCMP softball in 44 degree heat. It’s still feeling like 36 after midnight tonight. Crazy.
— Ball went alright. Knee is feeling more comfortable with it.
— Hating technology. Come home and my iPod Touch shows as being connected to my wireless network... but acts as if there’s no internet connection. Most frustrating.

WEDNESDAY...
— Still scorching. Low 40s with the humidity.

THURSDAY...
— Still hot out there. Mid 40s today. Got my wireless network back up and running after work... so that’s a bit of an accomplishment.
— Miami Heat will have Lebron, Bosh and Wade next year. Could NBA owners file for collusion against the players? Management in sports seeming more and more powerless. Players just dictating everything these days.

FRIDAY...
— Some rain finally breaks the hot. It’s still really warm... in the low 30s... but no more in the 40s anyway.

SATURDAY...
— Laundry in the day. Supper with Sarah and Phil and then we go see Iron Man 2. A fun movie. Liked it. And I can even turn off the AC and open windows in the evening. Mid to low 20s is much more comfortable.