A good friend died last week. He was the father of my first boyfriend. Even though Tony and I broke up in junior high, Moe remained a friend to my parents. I didn't really get to know him until after I graduated high school. He was at my parents' house almost every evening for dinner so he became like a second father to me. He helped me when my parents couldn't. I have him to thank for some of the best memories of my life. My parents used to call him the Vampire of the Dawn because on weekends he would sometimes show up for breakfast after having been out all night partying. As he grew older, he left the wild life behind and became a student of religion. He was on his way, in his 80s, to getting a bachelor's degree in religious studies.
He didn't want a funeral so there won't be a gathering of friends and family. No way to say goodbye. It's not important, really, but I still feel the need to say it. There will be a get-together but not until August because his death was so sudden and his son lives in Alaska.
August is too far away. So, I'm saying goodbye to him here.
Goodbye, Moe. I loved you, though I don't think I ever said it. I regret that but I hope you knew.