My friends are dropping like flies and I hate it

It’s coming into winter now and death blows it cold breath over me as if to announce, “I am here again!” This narrative is not for you to feel pity for me or sorry for me. This is just to let you know in my 62nd year my friends are dropping like flies and I hate it.

Back in California, my youngest son is newly engaged, and my older son is planning his wedding. A good friend has adopted her nephew from her sister and my nieces and nephews are having babies and loving life. Life moves forward day by day, but here in Sydney, death is closer than I would ever want to be to it. I am still here because God never let me go. God has kept me alive for a reason. I am strong and stoic and sober and draw closer to the Lord day by day.

I am so blessed to have reconnected with all the people in this story over the past seven years. All but one, Lynn. We were not face-to-face but voice-to-voice over the miles. We became teenagers, we were teenagers again, back when Bette Midler was singing about “The Boogey Woogey Bugle Boy from Company B”. We were then, teenagers sneaking cigarettes from her mum and drinking white wine and lemonade at her house. We so connected over the phone. I didn’t care that she lost all her hair or that she was swollen up from all the drugs keeping her alive… She was my friend.

My ex-boyfriend from 45 years ago, Robin, has been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s disease. He has just turned 70. His wife rang to tell me about his disease and I am unable to use words except to write from my heart. He is an accomplished musician, singer and teacher. His vocal range is 3.5 octave. He can no longer find pleasure in his songs, writing or singing them. We spent four years together when we were young, and he loved me, and I loved him. Now he can’t function anymore. He walked onto the road in a 40-degree heat and burned his feet so badly, he went to the Concord Burn Unit to get better. He can’t remember to put his undies on or his socks. He forgets to eat. He doesn’t know what he likes and can’t process conversations one-on-one.

In 2010, my friend Michelle died of alcoholism. She had been to rehab; tried the anti-abuse, tried AA, nothing worked. She went to bed one evening, pulled the blankets up under her chin and there they found her the next afternoon; looking peaceful and happy. No more drinking, no more hangovers. Just peace and serenity and love. That was Michelle and she was funny.

Fast forward to 2017, February 9. I got the news that Keith had had a heart attack and was found in his lounge room by his son. It was such a shock that I didn’t believe it until I saw the coffin at the funeral service. Keith was my first love, he was tall and dark and good looking. He played guitar and could sing like Cat Stevens. He was the life of the party and I’m so glad I got to know him again.

In October of last year, Beverly, a full-blown alcoholic died in bed and wasn’t found for two days. I did not go to that funeral. Bev decided to get sober on her own, about 20 times and clearly that did not work for her. Now she is with the rest of the group, hopefully up in Heaven; not having to worry about the evils around us here.

Have you reconnected with old friends over the years? How does it make you feel when a friend dies?

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