My oldest, best friend, Bobbie Gene died yesterday morning. His worn out liver finally gave up. Even though I was not there when he passed away, I knew he was gone before I got the call telling me so. We were just sorta like that with one another.
There are all kinds of relationships … some friends we meet while we're young and then we walk in and out of each others' lives until one or the other finally leaves the planet altogether on their journey Home. Bobbie Gene is such a friend for me.
We were life “witnesses” for one another – we knew each other way back when and watched each other change as we moved through one AFGE (Another F….ing Growth Experience ;)) after another, finally to settle into some version or another of adulthood. He told me not so long ago that every dramatic life change he had watched me make had made me a better person… Saying stuff like that when he felt it (for he was never one to offer empty platitudes in attempts to please) is just the kind guy he was.
Bobbie Gene was one of those friends, that though men came and went in my life, he was a mainstay. Never in my bed, but always in my heart, this man knew how to laugh at our dramas and wild escapades, he pitched in when an extra hand was needed, and stood beside me in my most humiliating moments. It's the tough sort of stuff he was made of.
And he found humor in whatever life dished out. His delighted chuckle always worked in cheering me up whenever I was caught up in one of my ever so common dramas, reminding me that it was all gonna be fine … that, things work out, and that, in his eyes at least, I was ok already … and that smiling assurance of his went a long way in helping me to get ok with me.
When I made the decision to walk away from the wild lifestyle we were sharing back then, he was glad, even though he did not follow suit. He went right on living the late night party life the same way we always had, even as he applauded me for leaving it behind – you see, BG knew how to love without letting it interfere with his own choices. He knew how to let others, including himself, simply be.
He was brought to me in those early years, a gift from the Universe to remind me I'm loved. He had my back through some pretty dark places. He was my safe harbor and my sage companion. I was blessed to have known him and I am blessed to know him still – for you see BG is my internal witness now. Still serving as my funny, life-loving friend, he watches me with frank acceptance and humor that puts me at ease. Even now I can see him in my mind's eye, grinning, all leaned up against his ride outta here, telling me that I have not seen the last of him yet – and I know it's true, because BG said so! And I must say that I am much relieved to hear it! 🙂 I am a blessed woman indeed!
How about you? Is there someone who plays the role of “witness” to your life? Or does this sound terribly rare? I do not know if it is something we all share – I only know I am wonderfully grateful to have had BG as witness in mine – and I would wish it for you too.
Thanks for listening.