David

I had a friend named David. He was one of my best friends. He died on February 22 at the age of 54 because of multiple myeloma.

Just putting those words on paper is still surreal to me, eight months later. This wasn't supposed to happen. David and I used to talk about how we would take care of each other when our parents were gone and we were old and senile.

David and I shared so many life-changing experiences together. We shared many mundane experiences together. He was the kind of friend that you don't forget. And, based on the outpouring of love on his Facebook page, no one has. But I was privileged to call him one of my best friends.

Having a guy best friend is a little weird, I think, when you're a woman. A lot of women do this naturally, but I don't. I think it's hard to be friends with men because invariably one will have feelings for the other. But that never happened with David and me. He was my brother from another mother, truly. We used to sit together at church. We went to gymnastics meets together. We drove together to the beach with my kids in tow, in my huge Toyota Sienna (which I still miss). I'm sure people wondered why we didn't date, since we were both single. Well, duh, it's because he was my brother. I even thought of him as my kids' uncle.

We met when I started my first job. He was a salesman, I was the geeky programmer. Somehow, we became fast friends, and I used to help him with his computer issues since I was the network Administrator. He was not good with computers. :)

David when there when my youngest daughter was born. We called him first when I started having convulsing, drop-to-your-knees, pain. He lived two minutes from the hospital so it was a natural thing to call him. He was actually there when we got to the hospital. My husband actually dropped me off at the front, sitting in a wheelchair next to David when he went to park the car. Which turned out to be a funny story later. Because I had a strong contraction, held his hand really hard, and my water broke all over his shoes.

David came over many Friday nights to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer and later, Angel. He would play video games with my now ex-husband even though he wasn't really computer-literate. He babysat KK when she was a baby and had this hilarious story of how she pooped in her pants; he had never changed a diaper. He called our friend Lori who walked him through it. KK "assumed the position" for getting her butt cleaned and they were friends for life after that.

When my separation and later divorce happened, David was one of the people I called. In fact, when I lost it in a hotel room in Piqua, OH, I was at my lowest point. He got that call. He didn't even recognize my voice, I was so distraught. But in later days, as God picked me up, David would check on me, worry about me, and ask how I was doing. He was struggling too, as he was losing one of his best friends (my ex-husband).

David eventually started going to church with me, which was so special because I loved my church. He wasn't involved like I was but just getting to see him on Sundays was great. As the kids got older, we had less time together, but we made time with our friends Lori and Victor and their kids. Beach trips. Disney trips. Birthday dinners. Ornament painting. He and I got along so well and he could usually read me when I wasn't doing great. We talked, usually weekly, about life, parents, TV shows, whatever was going on.

So, last year, when he was diagnosed with cancer, I thought he would beat it. It was incomprehensible that he wouldn't. Then he went to the hospital on Jan 8 of this year. And he never left. I'll never forget the pain in his voice when he realized he wouldn't make it. He wanted to see my oldest get married. But he also knew his time was drawing to a close. My last time hearing his voice was when I stopped by, about to go to a birthday party for me thrown by some friends. He wanted to know everyone who would be there, and what was going on with them. That was David. He wanted to be involved and know I was taken care of.

I miss him so much.