It was over my morning breakfast at ye A & W that I spied in the local paper an obituary for a fellow that I once knew rather well.
Rob Slater was in the crowd I hung with around the turn of the century. (Does that not sound like ancient times?) He was very cute and cuddly and incredibly funny. I had a bit of a crush on him and I thought he had one on me as well. Turned out he had pegged me for his father who was in his later 80s..... Rob Senior was a hell of a man as well, but 40 years too old for me. I still remember sitting in their home, polishing trophies that once belonged to Rob Sr.'s wife, and, thinking I misheard, asked him to repeat himself. No, I had not misheard. Later the same day, Rob Jr. asked me if he could call me Mom. I was not insulted, just blown away, as it was outside of my realm of probability. Rob Jr. took after his father- he was interested in 20 somethings not 30 and 40 somethings.
Aside from that awkward moment, I enjoyed alot of happy times in Rob's company. I knew he had suffered from some inner turmoils and had demons that were not yet tamed, but I believed he had conquered the main ones. Rob went into a welding program and became a very proficient tradesman, but never quite got past whatever demon lingered. Now that is all moot as he is gone from the body.
It is never a good time to hear of the death of a friend.
I wish you well in the sweet hereafter friend.
Rest in peace.
“Anyone desperate enough for suicide...should be desperate enough to go to creative extremes to solve problems: elope at midnight, stow away on the boat to New Zealand and start over, do what they always wanted to do but were afraid to try.”