Harry

t's two years since Harry died. It's hard to lose a friend like him. He accepted me, with all my faults and shortcomings as no other person in my recent memory. I loved him like a father, a friend, a fellow traveler in a time when we both were rocked by cancer. He visited me in the hospital with good, cheery wishes, confidence in my recovery, food for my belly and jokes for my spirit. I tried in vain to do the same for him.

I was always able to ask him for a favor. Tape something, save a magazine for me, drive me somewhere, nothing was denied. Harry's stature as an individual, his personal dignity was never compromised even in his last days of illness. I chose to remember his delighted “Radwelsky” response to my “Novinsky” when I heard him answer the phone. I miss stopping by to chat with him on my way home from work.

But try as I may I cannot put the sadness of his death behind me yet. I'm afraid that if I do I will forget how much I loved him.

It's three years now and his smile and embrace are still fresh in my mind. I need him more now than ever and I'm angry that I don't have him. Is there an end to my selfishness? I am miserable with seemingly everyone around me dying. It seems I am on a different planet. It is different.