To My Best Friend, Frank: Letters to the Dead Series

Prologue: I first met Frank Zderic as a freshman in high school.  We both turned out for the freshman baseball team, played catch with each other during warm-ups, had casual conversations about life, discovered we had mutual interests, and became fast friends.

We eventually roomed together in college, he was the best man at my wedding, lost track of each other, found each other, rinse and repeat several times, finally reconnected eight years ago, just before he was diagnosed with spinal cancer.  Our final meeting, at his home in Ashland, Oregon, was a goodbye meeting, two days filled with memories, laughs, professions of love for each other, and tears.

He died three months after our meeting, the end of a friendship which had spanned fifty-four years.

Frank was more than a friend to me. He was my brother in every way not related to DNA. I connected with him in ways I’ve never experienced with anyone else, and I miss him terribly to this day.

This, then, is my letter to my best friend.

Hey, buddy!

Sorry I haven’t been in touch lately.  Busy with all the minutiae of life, ya know, all the b.s. which detours us all from the really important things in our lives, like loved ones. No excuse, mind you, you were never too fond of excuses, so I won’t waste your time with mine.  Listen, I just wanted to ask a couple questions, if you don’t mind, only two so they won’t take you away from important matters for too long.

First, and this touches on a conversation we had in Ashland, but in a little more depth, but I’m curious about those last few months.  Were you afraid of dying? You seemed so damned calm, serene, completely at peace.  Now, mind you, that was usually your default setting anyway. For as long as we’ve been friends, you were always the calm one, always the safe harbor during the storms of life.  But still, this is death we’re talking about. I’ve seen strong people whimper and crawl into balls as their last days approached.  You, it was like you were completely comfortable with the approaching end, and I’m just curious how in the hell you achieved that state of calm?  If there is any possible way for you to pass that advice along, you know, bridge the gap between death and life, just long enough for me to grab hold of it, I would appreciate it.  My time is coming, buddy, not imminent, mind you, but coming nonetheless, and I would like to be as prepared as you were.

Enough of the heaviness.  My next question is constructed with you in mind, the essence of who you were, a question (actually a series of questions) which really would not fit anyone else I know.

Is Aristotle the serious grump he appears to be in all of the textbooks?

Have you had a chance to play chess with Descartes? They say he was pretty good, the man could protect his queen, that’s the word, but my money would be on you.

What’s it like traveling through a Black Hole, wind in your face, or is there wind, is there resistance at all when you are a spirit, or simply energy transference through other energy, a question, I suspect, only the dead can answer but then, you never believed in death, simply other realms of existence, other experiences for our soul to embrace and, perhaps, that belief was where your calmness in the face of corporeal death, came from.

Was your family waiting for you when you passed over, all smiles and hugs, say hi to Monica and Dave, Roberta and James, all of them, so damned nice to me when we were teens, like a second family, and I lost touch with them as adulthood swallowed me whole, and I feel bad about that. Isn’t that the way, buddy, we always spend less time on the important matters, and people, than we do on the window dressing of life? And you knew that, aware of it early on, I always marveled at that; you refused to play the American Dream Game, refused to chase after more money and more possessions, content you were in simply being, in relationships, in observing life, and I’ll be damned if you weren’t right all along and, speaking of such, say hello to Henry David Thoreau if you should stumble across that old guy, tell him I respect him greatly, tell him he has another disciple in yours truly.

So, what’s it like? Seriously, what’s a normal day like for you? Do you have a body or are you spirit? Do you float around like a heavenly host? Or walk on pavement, parallel universe, new life? Same appearance as before? Would I recognize you if I saw you in heaven? And, speaking of such, is there really a heaven and hell, or were we hoodwinked by Father Clark when we were kids?  Neither of us were much on faith so I’m just curious, ya know, about that God thing we were force-fed, the all-loving being, or maybe the Ancient Greeks had it correct, a god for every important aspect of life or, hey, wouldn’t it be a hoot if the Native Americans knew more than the all-knowing white man, or maybe god is nothing more than hocus pocus, a great story line to tell kids while they prepare for bed, now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord and, well, you know how it goes.

Can you imagine, speaking figuratively right now because you don’t have to imagine, you know, but can you imagine if there is no God, we’ve had this discussion before, remember the Student Union Building, Seattle University, 1967? How all hell would break loose, on Earth, if people didn’t have those Ten Commandments to rely upon and live by, no fear of eternal damnation, holy cow what a mess it would be on Earth.

Or, is there only death, no after-life, in which case this letter is really ridiculous and moot, and as skeptical as I have always been, as cynical as I claim to be, I sure as hell hope I’m wrong about that because, well, selfishness I’m afraid, Frank, because I really do want to see you again, play catch just one more time, eat ice cream and laugh about our frailties one last time, go for a run one last time, take a road trip one last time, watch a movie together one last time . . .

Hug you one last time . . .

Can you roller-skate on the rings of Saturn? Can you howl at the moon, from the moon, if you want to? Like snap your fingers and arrive on Venus, or a fast blink, like Elizabeth Montgomery on that old t.v. show, Bewitched, and you are suddenly visiting some alien culture? And what about all the human weaknesses and flaws, are they all gone with death, or are there still uncaring people in the next life, lacking compassion, lacking empathy, is there a special place for those maladjusted spirits where they always fall just short of happiness?

Are there animals? I sure would love it if Maggie and I could find each other after this chapter ends, you know, toss her a ball, make her laugh that funny way she does now, wag her tail and lay her head on my lap, those eyes shining with love, how cool if she could be with me for eternity, and a thousand other things I want to know, Frank, and I know you would patiently sit and answer them all if I asked, but . . . some things we all need to find out for ourselves, right?

Listen, before I end this, I really need to thank you one last time. Thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for never, and I mean never, judging me. Thank you for standing by me when I was at my worst, thank you for supporting me when life was beating me down, thank you for showing me the way, for teaching me about the priorities in life, and for making me feel like I mattered during those difficult years when I just couldn’t imagine myself ever being good enough. Through it all there you were, an absolute rock in my personal hurricane, and I will always love you for being that rock.

See you soon enough, buddy.

Bill