There is something that needs to be mentioned before continuing any further, and no other way to do it, except to just say it. Harry is dead. Dick’s best friend Harry died this past March, after suffering a massive heart attack. It happened while he was driving home after running an errand one morning. Just like that, here one moment, and gone the next. I still find it difficult to wrap my brain around it. I was informed of this news by none other than my old neighbor “Jack”, at the same little store where he told me he had met Dick’s “new” girlfriend. Harry was a big part of my life for many years. Although in the end Harry turned out to be just as much of an ass as Dick, he was at one time someone I considered to be my friend and it saddens me that he has left this earthly plane.That morning when Jack told me, I was stunned. I started babbling things like, “Harry? What? Who? Harry? You mean Dick’s Harry? You’re kidding! Harry? Are you sure?” The strange thing about my stunned reaction was that Harry was someone I always thought would meet his end just that way. He was one of those people you would refer to as a heart-attack-waiting-to-happen. I guess I was more shaken by the news than I was surprised, like I would be if Jack had told me that Dick ran into a telephone pole or a tree while driving drunk and died. I most certainly would be upset and shaken by it, but surprised...um…not so much. I would probably be more amazed that it hadn’t happened sooner….talk about an accident-waiting-to-happen!
Jack delivers newspapers in the morning and had a copy of the one containing Harry’s obituary. He gave it to me, I thanked him and we parted ways. As I walked to my car I started to cry. I cried all the way to work, and then some. When I got that out of my system this very odd feeling came over me. I started to think about Dick…I hate to admit it, but I felt so bad for him. I thought about my best friend Ann and how much she means to me. I have no idea how I would ever deal with losing her…it is inconceivable. Years ago, before things really ran amuck in my marriage, I remember saying something like, “If anything ever happened to Dick…like, God forbid, if he were to die, I would be devastated, but eventually I would get over it and move on. But if Ann were to die, you might as well just box me up and put me in the ground too because I would not be able to survive without her.” That’s how important my friendship with Ann is to me; how important she is to me. I tell you this to illustrate how important Harry was to Dick. I just couldn’t see how he was going to survive without Harry. Dick had other friends, but none meant as much to him as Harry did.
Dick was not emotionally equipped to deal with something like this. Then again, Dick was and still is not emotionally equipped to deal with many things, but this…this was beyond anything I could imagine. I had this vision of him in my head. There he was, lying on the bed, curled up in the fetal position, staring off into space and totally unresponsive, as if in a coma. Wait… come to think of it, that wasn’t a vision that was a memory. I had seen him act that way once before. That was exactly the way I found him three days before our wedding…hmm…how the hell did I miss that red flag? I’d totally forgotten about that. I’ll have to cover that little episode at some point, but for now let’s continue with Harry’s death. I was actually very worried about Dick, so much so that at one point I even considered calling Charlot to make sure he was all right, after all, I did have every single number that she could be reached at logged in my TOW (The Other Woman) file. I know… I almost did WHAT?? I didn’t. I only considered it for about a second, maybe less. I must have been experiencing some sort of brain-freeze or brain-fart, brought on by the recent shock of Harry’s death. But, I snapped out of it pretty quickly when I finally had the time to really read Harry’s obituary.
The obituary brought to light some information that while reading it I began feeling something quite different from the concern I had been having for Dick. I realized that it had been almost 2 weeks since Harry died. I had missed it all, the wake, the funeral, everything. My concern for Dick morphed right into anger and then some. Harry’s funeral was held at my parish church…where I work! I was way passed anger at this point. I was there that day and never knew because Dick obviously did not think it was necessary to inform me of Harry’s passing. I can understand that Dick was probably in quite a fog as a result of losing his friend, but I didn’t care. If the shoe had been on the other foot I know I would have called him, or at least had someone do it for me, but then again, I have a heart. What I find most annoying is that I was right there. I walked right passed the funeral Mass that morning on my way downstairs to get my daily delivery. The church was so full of people, I remember thinking to myself that it must have been someone young or very important that died, because of how crowded the service was. Little did I know it was someone I had known for more than half of my life. Later on I was chatting with the priest who said the funeral Mass. I commented on the number in attendance and how many cars there were in the parking lot. He told me it was very sad…this young guy, Larry, 49, married less than three years, went out to run an errand and never came home…heart attack. He died in his car...very sad. Yes, the priest had said “Larry”, not Harry. No, it wasn’t a mistake on his part. Harry is Larry, they are one in the same. Harry’s full name is Lawrence Harold Awhaule Jr.. His family and anyone who knew him since he was a teenager called him Harry, short for Harold. His business associates, friends from work and even his wife, called him Lawrence or Larry. It’s all very confusing and part of the reason I didn’t make the connection. When I finally was able to see the whole scenario and realized what had taken place I was furious. Dick went from “poor-guy” to “that Rat-Bastard!!!” in seconds.
I don't know why I let myself get so worked up by Dick's behavior or why I keep thinking that someday he will surprise me and not be so...well..."Dick-ish", but I do. You would think that having spent twenty-five years being married to me he would have learned what decent behavior is. Maybe, in some way he did, but just as I could never behave or be like him, he can't be any other way. It would feel so wrong to him, like he was wearing someone else's skin. I have to keep reminding myself that he is who he is, and he will never change. He will always be....Dick.
