I have been working with older adults for 20 years.Over the years, I have met some really wonderful people and occasionally, I make a good friend.
Don and I became friends about 3 years ago. Despite some physical disabilities and problems that came along with age, Don had a great sense of humor and a positive outlook on life. He allowed me to to interview him for a paper I wrote for my Psychology of Aging class and was incredibly open and accommodating. Don always had a joke to tell. We often kept in touch by reading and commenting on each other's blogs. No matter what I wrote, he always had a positive comment for me. He almost always included a joke at the end of each blog post.
When I became ill in May 2012, Don sent me his support by emailing me jokes and funny stories 2 or 3 times a week. He was a firm believer that "laughter is the best medicine." He continued to do this throughout my illness and recovery. When I was well enough and able to drive again, I went to visit him. I finally got to meet his feathered kids, Chipper and Pepper. Here he is with Chipper...
A couple months ago, I noticed that he wasn't writing on a regular basis. One day he wrote, "Not feeling well. Try again later." Worried, I called him and he said that he was having a battery of tests run. He was gratified that his doctor was putting him at the head of the line to have the diagnostic tests done. This doctor even went to his home to talk to him and check on him. While I was in Georgia in November, a mutual friend of ours called to tell me that Don was in the hospital - he was receiving treatment and his body wasn't tolerating the treatment very well. His condition was very serious...
When I got back to California, I went to visit him. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, was weak, but still had a positive outlook. We visited for about an hour and a half, but I left when I got the feeling that he was getting worn out. Before I left, he said that he wanted to take me and Ron out to dinner to his favorite Chinese food restaurant when he was feeling better. I wish I could remember the name of the restaurant. I told him, "It's a date!" gave him a hug, kissed him on the cheek and waved good-bye.
Last week I got a letter from his son saying that Don was coming home from the hospital. I called him on the way home from work today only to find out that he had gone home on the 13th and passed away on the 15th. I can't tell you how sad I am that I didn't get to see him one more time and say good-bye. I am sad knowing he won't read this and that there won't be a comment from him at the end of this entry.
Today I am grateful to have had a friend named Don.