Gerry, Tamara, Diane, and myself, in California the summer before last.

Gerry, Tamara, Diane, and myself, in California the summer before last.

(This post was inked by hand in remembrance of my friend Gerry on January 17th)

My friend died last night…

When my wife answered the phone it was with apprehension, I could tell in her voice. The way she asked, “What?” gave me that feeling of a bowling ball dropping to the bottom of my gut – the type that lands so hard on the hips that your knees almost buckle.

If I had any hope that it wasn’t grim news, it melted into the kitchen floor as my wife did too… knees first.

“But I was just there, his vitals and stats were stable?” she countered the voice on the other end of airwaves back at the hospital.

My wife the nurse had literally just left there and had just walked in the door. She stayed till almost nine o’clock until she was sure Gerry was stable and improving.

We are an odd lot. Our friends live in a country club in a home I built them, that’s how our paths crossed and lives became intertwined. Gerry was a wildly successful lawyer, the kind that could talk his way in or out of anything. He could have sold heaters in the dead of summer in the middle of the desert and have folks whipped into a frenzy and bickering over the last one.

I’ve only met a couple of people in my life that could talk to folks from all walks of life and relate to all of them in a personal way. Gerry could strike a conversation with homeless folks as well as royalty. He’d been just about both at one time or another in his colorful life.

Gerry was also the charismatic person that could say things to people in pure honesty and not have them too offended… He could put together the type of words that I’d never dream of and get away with a smile, the type of words that would get me slapped or punched.

If the old adage, “Behind every good man there’s a good woman”, has merit, then Gerry’s wife, Tamara would be the epitome of that statement.

“You’ve been good to me… better than I deserve… I love you,” was one of the last things Gerry told his loving companion of forty-five years. Tamara told me that through a torrent of tears… I couldn’t help but shed some of my own. For the loss of my friend who treated my family and me like royalty… and for my friend Tamara, who is left to pick up the pieces and push on…

Gerry wasn’t perfect – he’d be the first to tell you that, but then again none of us are…

Based on a conversation Gerry had with my wife shortly before he drew his last breath, I believe I’ll be seeing Gerry again… how soon only God knows.

If we get to wear halos in heaven, you’ll be able to spot Gerry right off… he’ll be the one sporting the fanciest one…

In loving memory of my friend Gerry Sellers.