i'm just waiting on a friend

I thought I would write something new today, to mark the time, but I think I would rather repost one of my old blogs. Please bear with me...
18 years. That's the time it takes to raise a child from infancy and send them out on their own into the big blue yonder. That's how long Sam Johnson was in my life. We met in 1991, with him being part, if not the ringleader, of the Underground Savannah posse that included my soon-to-be husband, Jeff. They, and Bobby Ruggiero and Andy Pena, had a friendship that was a brotherhood. It was tight. Even when they disagreed with something one of them did or said, it just didn't matter. They were a team, with an irreverent television show, the radio world, the Savannah nightlife and culture. I could tell these guys were in it for the duration, no one was getting out alive, I tell ya!

And so, now one of them has gotten out of this band of brothers from other mothers. Sam's big ol' heart, after enduring five years of dialysis, just gave out on him on Sunday. He'd had a great weekend, including zany fortune cookie messages. That's right, plural. His original fortune cookie told him: A nice cake is waiting for you. Of course, he led into the reading of it the usual way, slowly releasing the message, looking it over and announcing "Boom goes the dynamite!" "Yeah, right, what does it really say?" And with a puzzled look, he says "A nice cake is waiting for you." I laughed my self silly, even reading it myself and then laughing more. Whoever heard of such a thing??? He was so taken aback by the seemingly non-fortune that he requested a new cookie... and was graciously granted one after he told his tale. This second cookie told him "You have infinite wisdom and power." "Hey, man, that makes you a superhero!" That made him feel right as rain. I dropped him off at Steed's, then went home for the night.

Saturday, after almost seven hours in Beaufort with my terminally-ill daddy and his family, I came back to town and caught a nap before heading off to a retirement party for a colleague. Then, off I went to Steed's for some karaoke. Sam had called to say he took a cab there, but I had told him I would make sure he got home so he could hold on to his money. I had gone there that night intending to sing, but I just never did. I even had a list of songs in my car that I had planned to do.. but I didn't. I just absorbed the show. There was a birthday party going on for a husband of the Cumulus crowd, and they were a lively bunch. There were several of the regular Saturday night singers. Even Bob and his mom, also known to Sam as "Mom", were there for a rare visit from Midway. And Sam was on top of his game, handling all with his usual mix of aplomb and bravado. I totally enjoyed myself, even though I was just part of the audience this time around. I even snapped a fairly decent photograph (on my cellphone) of Sam with Bob and Mom when they were leaving. Apropos of absolutely nothing, I took the picture. I remember thinking, who knows when they'll all see each other again?

Finally, the end of the shift has arrived. Last call for alcohol, for songs, for hanging out at Steed's. Gina is about to fall over, her feet hurt so badly. She reminds Sam she had set aside a plate for him from the cookout earlier. She even saved him some cake. Pineapple upside-down cake. One of his favorites, one he had been thinking about lately. Nice cake. Using his phone, I took a shot of him with his "Nice cake", us grinning like fools about the in-joke. I even said to him, on the ride to his place in Garden City, that he should play those numbers on the back of that fortune. After all, how many fortune cookie messages are found to be true?? Yeah, that would be cool. So, at 2:30am, I drop him off at his place, with our "Love ya, girl" "Love you too, Sam" hanging in the air. I stay a moment, making sure he gets inside safely before I take my tired self home. And that was the last I saw of him. He tried at some point to forward the "Nice cake" picture from his cell to mine, but it didn't take. I figured I would have him resend it the next time we talked.

And now, he's to be buried on Saturday. 42 years old, gone already. So many future plans, all on hold now. He was very much looking forward to a family reunion in Orlando in December. He was even going to do the odious task of going through the big box of family photos his sister had and putting them in albums for the reunion. He was going to Dragon*Con again with myself and the Delongs. He was going to go through his blogs for the past five years and publish a book of the best of them, at the urging of his college professor, Dr. H. He was going to finish his paralegal degree from South University. He was going to do all these time-consuming projects and more... but time stopped for him.

I still don't believe he's really gone. I guess I'll have to accept it at Steed's when his hand isn't on the microphone, his voice isn't ringing through the speakers, his presence isn't all over the room.