BF’s
BFFs Unfortunately Aren’t Forever
By
Bud Focht
Hi,
my name is Bud and it has been well documented since biblical times that not
only bad things but also good things often happen in threes.
Rings
in a circus. Pieces of a good suit. Stooges.
I
have been very fortunate to have had three great best friends in my life. And even
though they are all still alive and living locally, I miss all three of them greatly,
especially the third one, my wife Terry.
Terry
and I were best friends for over 35 years, before she entered the middle stage
of Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease. I am afraid that even though my wife Terry is still alive and for the
most part healthy, my best friend Terry
is now gone.
And
I miss her.
My
first best friend was Tommy, who lived down the street from me and we bonded in
the first grade. All through grade school and high school we were like
brothers. We were so close that when his family took a two-week vacation to the
Jersey Shore each summer they would bring me.
Growing
up, on rainy days we made model cars and airplanes together in his car port
(and I swear I didn’t sniff that glue, that much, on purpose.). On sunny days
we played countless games of wiffleball in his back yard when we weren’t riding
our bikes, the first ones in our neighborhood with the banana seat and
butterfly handle bars. On snowy days we played one-on-one tackle football when
we weren’t throwing snowballs at trucks going down our street. On hot days we
swam in my family’s pool. We played a million one-on-one basketball games. We watched the first two Ali-Frazier boxing
matches together. We worked out together at home with the latest exercise
invention, the ‘exer-genie’, and on the Universal weight lifting machine in the
high school locker room.
We
drank our first beers together (although Boones’ Farm Apple Wine and Strawberry
Hill came first) and picked up our first girls together.
We
came of age together in the late 60s and early 70s.
Senior
year in high school Tom’s girlfriend (a cutey too good for him who became his
wife and stayed with him to this day for some unknown reason) and my girlfriend
(a fun girl who I enjoyed but out-grew) did not get along, so Tom and I did not
see as much of each other as we had in the past.
To
this day whenever I hear songs from the late 60s, Cherish by the Association,
Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond, anything from the Stones’ Sticky Fingers album,
it reminds me of my time with Tom.
And I
miss that.
Tom
went northwest to college and I went south, and although we have kept in touch over
the years and still see each other at our annual high school golf outing, we
were never best buds again.
And I
miss that.
The
next best friend in my life was and is Jack. Jack and I have known each other
since kindergarten. All through grade school and high school we had many mutual
friends, but we never really ‘hung out.’ We ran in different crowds.
Jack
and I did play baseball together. We were never on the same regular season team
when we were young, but we were on several post-season all-star teams together.
When we were 16 we were finally on the same regular season team together and
became close friends.
Senior
year on the high school baseball team we realized we were heading to the same
college, in fun-in-the-sun Miami, to play baseball. We worked together in the
summer prior to college, played on the same American Legion baseball team, and
headed south in the fall as roommates.
Living,
partying, and playing ball in South Florida, we had about as much fun as a
couple of 18-year olds could possibly have without be convicted. (Convicted?
No, never convicted).
After
our freshman year Jack returned north to attend school but we still saw each
other all of the time during semester breaks and during the summer.
Whenever
I hear certain songs from the 70s, ELO, Hall and Oates or the Doobie Brothers,
it reminds me of great times Jack and I had back then.
And I
miss that.
For
the last 43 years Jack and I have been closer than brothers, sharing weddings,
births, even deaths. He was the best man at my wedding and is the godfather to
my son. We won championships playing adult football and softball together. The
only times I went out without Terry, it was with Jack.
And I
miss that.
Last
fall, the day the clocks changed, Jack and I took part in a sun rise,
two-club-only golf tournament. I was out of the house for four great hours,
while my daughters stayed with Terry. Seven months later Jack and I took part
in our annual high school fund-raising golf outing, while my kids stayed with
Terry for six hours. In June Jack and our close friend Jerry took me to New
York for a day in the Big Apple and a Yankees game, while my kids stayed with
Terry for eight hours.
In
the last year, whatever 365 x 24 hours is, I have spent a total of just 18 of
those hours away from my third best friend. My wife. Terry. And it is not
because we love being with each other THAT much. I am afraid it is out of
necessity.
In the
summer of 1982 Terry and I were married and since then she has been my best
friend. Until recently. Now, I am afraid she is no longer the person I fell in
love with. No longer the person I married. No longer the person who I spent
over 30 years with raising a family.
And
I miss her.
I
really miss her, a lot!
Now,
the woman I married is unfortunately no longer my best friend. I talk to her
all day, and I listen to her all day and night when she is ‘thinking out loud’,
but I cannot have a real conversation with her. I can tell her what I am
thinking, what worries me, what I am concerned with, but she can no longer give
me advice. She can’t even comprehend what I am trying to say to her. All I can
do is try to make her laugh, or at least smile.
Although
she is still the most important person in my life, my wife is no longer my best
friend. She is more like a toddler. A toddler that I must take care of. A toddler I must bathe, dress, feed, try to amuse.
But unlike a toddler, who you can teach things to, Terry is not learning
anything. She is forgetting everything. So when she acts out, I have to keep
myself from scolding, from correcting, from getting pissed. I have to swallow
it and move on. I can’t tell her why I am upset because it doesn’t do any good.
She is not going to learn from it.
And
in truth I am not upset with her. I am upset at what this fucking disease is
doing to her. Doing to us. It has taken my best friend away from me.
And
I miss her.
Until
next time, tell your best friend what they mean to you, while they still know
what that means. Nothing lasts forever. Not even BFFs.
Bud
