There had been something bugging me about the day Tripper left me: June 25. Why that day? Why didn't he come to our new ranch? Was it a Friday that was bothering me? Was it the date? A persistent nagging I could not shake.
On Tuesday, I was talking with Bonnie and telling her the story of losing Tripper. She asked me when that happened and I gave her the date. Again, that tug. What was I missing?
I took some time to sit on the sofa with Pooker and let my mind go. Let the feelings come and go and I did my best to not grab onto any one of them but to let them wash over me and let me feel. My eyes were closed and my breathing was slow and calm.
I saw my friend Fred Burrill. Fred Burrill's birthday was June 25. He would have been in his early 100s this year.
Several of you know who Fred is, many of you do not.
Mr. Burrows as we called him as kids, lived up the street from us. He was a tall man with a tick in his walk. He walked everywhere, he did not drive. Fred would pass our house with his fishing rod in hand and his fishing vest packed with the necessities of his outing. Off he went to catch the bus to head to his post. We would yell over from the porch, "Hi Mr. Burrows!" And his smile would gleam in our direction and his large hand would wave back at us.
We went up to his house to get candy. And he had a never ending supply. He was a happy man. He seemed to have no worries, no enemies, no reason to not be smiling.
Many years later I was visiting my parents and who came walking up the street but Mr. Burrows. He was carrying his grocery bags, this time a little more hunched over. I asked him if I could help him home. We chatted on the way to his house and it was the first time I had ever been inside his house. It was small, a shotgun apartment.
From there, our friendship blossomed. And I learned his name was not Mr. Burrows but Mr. Burrill, or Fred.
I would visit him and we'd play cribbage or listen to Hawaiian music on his old style cassette player or we would head to the super market in my Volkswagen Fox--ample space for me, a bit cramped for my 6'4" friend.
During our visits, he told me stories of his early life, he shared precious pearls of wisdom and he always reminded me, "take it slow."
For one of his birthdays, my dear friend Suzanne came over with her cello and played him a private concert and sang to him. If you could have seen the smile on his face. It was simple and beautiful. I gave him a new music player with buttons that were easier for his curling fingers to press to play his music and with speakers a bit stronger so he could hear better with his aging ears.
One of our last outings was to the Kennedy Library. He didn't come inside, it was getting too difficult to get in and out of the car. But we sat there with the windows open feeling the ocean mist and listening to the waves hit the rocks below and the seagulls singing their nautical tunes. That was a special moment. We both were in the same car yet someplace else in our minds and hearts and enjoying every minute.
Fred moved into a nursing home and I saw him a couple of times. We still managed to get in a game of cribbage.
I moved to Argentina and my mother read me a letter sent to me by a family who knew him. Fred had passed away.
There is great wealth in having someone so wise in your life. His influence was significant. His steadiness and confidence was reassuring and inspiring. He was a good friend.
So, with this memory I have come to understand the meaning of Tripper's death. He came into my life at an important time of transition. He offered me stability and consistency. He was a rock of unconditional love. He was much like my dear old friend, Fred: the one who has been there and done that and who didn't get too riled about anything. He reminded me what was important in life. Fred and Tripper did that.
I am blessed to have had these friendships. And I believe they are intertwined. June 25 was no random day. June 25 made perfect sense and I am so relieved to have put this together.
When I get back to Long Beach and to my photos, I will post a photo of Fred on his concert birthday. You'll see everything in his smile.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
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