No shit, right? Who doesn’t know someone it’s taken?

It took a friend today, and the hurt’s still raw, and there’s nothing really to do about it but get over it. Eventually.

Jerry was a great guy. The harder you broke his balls the better he liked you for it, and he had a million zany stories that you knew he wasn’t making up. He drank like a sailor–which is appropriate because he was one. I don’t know anyone who was more happily politically incorrect, and you had to love him for it–more so the worse his wisecracks got. I had to make him stop including my work e-mail address on his mailing list, some of the stuff he’d send was definitely not safe for work.

He loved golfing, which is how I got to know him. We were league mates and later, when he and his crony Chris broke away from the league and started a group of their own, I showed up to play with them as often as I could. When I missed half a season because of emergency surgery he was the guy I asked to cover for me. He had his great days, and he had his lousy days, and on the latter there was no one more accomplished at sending a duck hook (he was a lefty) farther right than I could send a slice. I can still see him pounding his chest like a drunk Klingon, and threatening to kick his ball’s ass if it didn’t go into the hole.

He was healthy as hell, too, until the cancer took him down. Trim, fit, he used to relax by swimming laps in his pool. He was retired some years back, but still active and vigorous as anyone half his age. Until the cancer got him.

He went peacefully, with his “lovely” beside him. Just closed his eyes and left. Thank goodness for that.

He “may not have been the best, but there ain’t none better!”

I already miss him.

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