REQUIEM FOR A NEW FRIEND

Big, rude, cranky Robert died today.  He had lived for the past year in a splendid semi-hospice for street people where I work part time.  Robert was an "original" - one of the first three to move in around opening day.  His gloomy, whiskery picture hangs in the office and will remain.

I came to know Robert a little.  God, knows, he did not make that an easy task.  For months, I was the "nemesis on his premises", someone I must have wronged in a previous life for he reacted to me as if I had put X Lax in his coffee and nettles in his jock strap.  My friendly greetings were met with silence or a mumbled, "Fuck Off!"  Cheerful goodbyes produced, "Bout fukkin' time!"

Time passed and Robert acclimatized to me.  He discovered four things;

1. I could cook, make coffee and sort out his meds as well as the regular staff.
2. I was an easy mark for a ciggie or a Loonie for a lottery ticket.
3. When pushed to serious annoyance, I would get in his face and tell him to fuck off.
4. I was around to be helpful and enjoyed being so.

There came a turning point in our fractious relationship.  One evening, after a fuck you - fuck off exchange, Robert told me that he was going to the variety store for a lottery ticket and did I want anything? 

"Nope, but here's a fiver.  Get another ticket but the deal is, you win big, we split it."

Once he had finished his "Scratch & Lose" tickets, I brought him a cookie and a decaf as a consolation prize.  Minutes later, he shambled into the office where I was dozing in a chair and surprisingly, sat down.  He shyly offered me a rather decent Cuban cigar (which, for a heavy smoker and a guy who lived on pocket change was no small thing) and thanked me for the coffee.

For the first time I was able to look into his eyes and get a visceral impression of the man.  The sadness I saw behind his eyes brought me close to tears.  As he talked haltingly he gave clues about the profound hurt he carried, the losses, the fear of dying and the feeling that the world gave him lemons without ever showing how to make lemonade.  He did not say much - he was not given to introspection and was far from talkative - but he did make it clear that he valued friendship and was seeking mine.

I am too late to tell him that I would have been happy to be his friend.  I hope that he recognized that I saw who he was.

Robert was a big, handsome man with a good soul, sore wounded.  He was a man, a citizen, a Canadian and of this earth - not just on it for a while.  He lived his little life as best he could and saw his end with the usual terror followed by peace as he realized that he would no longer be.

Most of all, he was a new friend.  I mourn his passing.