I had a friend, a lifetime ago and a far away. He was the finest sort one could ask for , always ready to cheer me up and even more so to smack me down when I needed it, which was often. We laughed together, cried together and sometimes ranted together at the injustices of the world. He always challenged me and was always there for me.
Sadly I wasn’t there when he needed me. And now I hold up his memory every year to remind me, that maybe things could have been different and my life would not have changed so drastically.
He really liked the “Shawshank Redemption”, either the book or the film. More properly it’s called “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank redemption” with the subtitle — “Hope springs eternal” by Stephen King
I think it was the film but a lot of the lines are quoted verbatim from the book so it doesn’t make much difference. I’m writing this because five years ago he was by himself in an empty house which used to ring to the shouts of children and their laughter and chaotic charm. It used to be comforting and warm but five years ago it was a sad and empty place and the children gone. Living in it made time draw out like a blade, thin and sharp and piercing to the soul. I can’t imagine how he lived in it and part of me doesn’t want to imagine it.
“He had a sense of his own worth” to quote Stephen king. “A feeling that he would be the winner in the end. What was right with him he’d only give you a little at a time. What was wrong with him he kept bottled up inside.”
And he did keep it bottled up. I did not guess what he would do that night, that dark night of the soul.
Now five years have passed into dust, like a bad memory in the rear view mirror. No one looks back at those times but every year I do. They would rather not think about it, but I have to. I need to atone for my absence. I honor his memory in the best way I know how, along with his family and I keep the message of hope alive
Because hope is a good thing, the best of things and no good thing ever dies. It was the last to escape whole and uncrushed from pandora’s box and it’s what keeps us going. It’s what keeps me going. I hope.
And what I hope is that on that night so many years ago, that timeless night of the soul, his spirit lives and gives light and continues to give light on my long endless journey at the end of which I hope to see my friend, Ben, and to shake his hand. I hope to find him and I hope to find him well.
