Companion to an Untold Story

Toast

238 Toast. Delivered in an e-mail from Gale to Richard: Were we closer in proximity, we’d raise a glass in memory of Joel and swap funny and sad stories of memories of Joel. As second best, here’s a toast to Joel, on the first anniversary of his death. He has been much on my mind these last few days. . . . I usually make the 45 minute drive into work in the dark, but today was later and I got to watch the sunrise on the trip. The sun rises and sets in this part of the world with majestic shows. I have to give Minnesota a “10” for the glory of the sunrises/sunsets, especially in the winter. And I wonder how life can be so unbearable that the sunrise isn’t enough anymore . . . the music of John Coltrane, old Woody Allen films, violin concerti , hockey games and popcorn and being rowdy, beer with friends in front of a roaring fire, cross country skiing on a cold morning when the only sound is the sshhh of the skis on frozen snow, laughing, sleeping in on rainy days or staying in on rainy nights, driving with the top down . . . to leave this admittedly imperfect life willingly is so hard to comprehend. I wonder if the thread here is relationships (this might be, as my 15-year-old would say, a chick thing). Joel’s death certificate says never married. Is this true? 239 Not that marriage or not is a defining factor in a person’s wholeness, but I can only hope that there were (was) relationships that gave Joel some comfort along the way. I know, unless Joel had changed drastically in the past years, that the friendship you shared with him was a rock. You had a motorcycle once, and I have a vivid snapshot in my memory of you giving Joel a ride on it—You had longish hair and your hair was blowing back, and Joel was sitting on the back as you turned a corner, with his head thrown back and laughing. I remember, too, how once you were in Europe and had fallen in love, and Joel was almost grieving that he had lost you as a friend. He obsessed about it, and no amount of assurance on my part made a difference . . . and then, another letter came from you and, whatever it said, the panic was gone. I think he knew then that distance, loves, jobs couldn’t break what the two of you shared. I hope you find some comfort in knowing you were friends. I had hoped to make a kind of pilgrimage to Colma during this time, but duties and cash flow have made it impossible . So, instead, I’ve bought myself some flowers and will have a glass of wine tonight for him. I hope you can find a way for a small celebration of Joel, too. Gale ...