Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The Final Hour of Friendship

I met Bob Zipperer when I was in college. I had gone to visit my parents, who had just moved down to Kingsbay, Georgia for my Dad's job. Bob - or Zip as my Dad called him - had just stopped in to say hello. He also wanted to meet me. As I shook this kindly little man's hand he said, "I have been waiting to meet you. And my, what a pretty smile you have." How sweet he was. Zip worked with my Dad, and they had grown fast friends in the short amount of time they had known each other.


Over the years while my parents lived in Georgia I saw Zip, always smiling, and always complimentary. Zip was always sort of there in the background. My Dad would talk of him in passing, and I would occasionally see him when I visited. Every time he talked to me he would mention my smile, how much he loved his daughter, and how special my Dad was to him.


And then time started passing so quickly. I got married and moved away. My Dad retired and my parents moved too. But Zip was still there, always checking in. I occasionally received a kind Christmas card or birthday card. He and my Dad always talked on their birthdays. Zip would call my Dad just to check on him, and to check on me. When my marriage ended, my Dad told Zip, and he would call just to make sure I was doing okay.


And life went on. Zip was older than my Dad, and over the years his age caught up with him. A little while back his health began to deteriorate and his heart stopped functioning. But even in poor health, he still called my Dad, and still asked about me.


About a week ago my Dad received a phone call. It was Zip calling to say good-bye. He was in Hospice and wanted to talk to my Dad one last time. He told him how much he meant to him, and how he had been his best friend over the years. He wasn't sure how long he had, but wanted to make sure my Dad knew just how special he was.


And then came yesterday. My Dad just had a feeling. He told my Mom, "I'm gonna call and check on Zip." And he did. Zip spoke into the phone with little strength, and said, "I'm so glad I got to hear your voice." They briefly talked and Zip told my Dad he loved him. And they hung up. An hour later Zip's wife called to tell them he'd passed.


My Mom told me tonight and my heart hurts. How wonderful this man was to show how he cherished my Dad until almost his last breath. And how beautiful a friendship that is.


So, to Zip - thank you for your wonderful gift. You were always so kind and giving, and showed my family the utmost respect. Thank you for loving my Dad and being a friend to him; for calling him even when his own brothers would not. For being the kind of friend that I can only wish to have. And for always making me smile.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

The Rain Keeps Falling Down

The past day or so it's been raining. Not just a little bit, but the rain has been ever-present and harsh.

It's typical to hate the rain, but I love it. It's a powerful change after so many hot dry summer days. It's cleansing and refreshing, and gives me a renewed perspective. A feeling that sometimes life is rough - an arid desert of normality and nothingness. But when the rain begins to fall more than the sky opens up. It's almost as if every pore in my body expands. A rush of warmth overtakes me and I can feel the lovely pulse of earth on my skin.

It's wonderful to know life is cleansed by a crisp rain. When you think all is lost, and hope has gone, something amazing happens. The sky darkens, the clouds draw near, and beautiful, sparkling drops of water fall to the ground. It's nature's way of saying, "It's okay. It's time to start over. Time to accept that even the earth needs to reboot."