Old Friends...

 

Old friends, old friends

Sat on their park bench like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes of the old friends

Old friends, winter companions, the old men
Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fears

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, 

A time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, 

I have a photograph
Preserve your memories; 

They're all that's left you

Paul Simon

I'd been thinking of a friend of mine, whom I hadn't heard from since BC (before Covid). I was feeling a little irritated at his not staying in touch, and thinking of calling him, but for some reason I decided to Google him first and when I did, my heart sank, because there it was: his obituary. He died, apparently peacefully and at home, perhaps in his sleep, late this past February. Not from Covid. This makes 4 friends who've died in the space of 16 months: none of them from Covid, but dead nevertheless. They ranged in age from 66 to 72. My 72-year-old friend had been sick, with Parkinson's and Lewy Body Dementia, but the other 3 deaths were totally unexpected, happening as they did to people who were relatively fit, with no known health issues. I remember my father (who lived to be 91) telling me it was so hard to outlive all friends and many family members. It's a weird feeling, to know these friends are gone. I miss each of them, and life suddenly seems much more precarious than it did 2 years ago, before this started happening.