Great and touching writing John. As we age we learn lots but we start to lose lots too. Our parents, some of our friends, some of our strength and abilities, and ultimately our life. Good on you for making the effort to visit your old friend, that’s something special and those things need doing as we get older. Savour the special things, water the garden and make more memories.
This is beautifully written, and deeply moving. Your image of the “darkening marine layer” stayed with me—it feels like such a powerful picture of dementia, how it rolls in slowly, softening the edges of memory until the ones we love are harder to see clearly. I’ve watched it happen to friends and family, and your story captures that quiet heartbreak so well. Thanks for sharing.
“If we didn’t care, there’d be no sting to loss. No suffering when loved ones die or slowly evaporate into the darkening marine layer of dementia. And for this reason, I wept on my drive back over Highway 17.”
Well composed and compactly constructed. I am touched by the care given to your friend by the other church goers; every little bit helps. Sadly, three of my friends are in such a state as yours, and moving along towards a slower, less-remembering future. Bob Marley was right and being with even your longest and best friends can become difficult, for certain. Yet such difficulties are part of our lives, and although some of our times together have brought me to tears afterwards, I give thanks for the opportunities to still be in touch, although the touches are fading with time. Should I so become, I hope to receive, acknowledge and be grateful for any such care and consideration, unsure even that I deserve it. Thank you for this piece, and your care for others. The racoon, as yourself, will continue on its missions as well for a good spell, I hope.
Thanks, John. I too was touched, even relieved, that the church staff was protective of him. I don’t remember what originally drew him to that church. Neither of his parents were religious. But thankfully, it has become a refuge and a familiar, safe space. And for that, I am grateful.
Since about a year this is happening to what once was my best friend. Children of another mother, we said. But after 5 years of scamdemic, where we barely met, we are now astranged, and the only thing I hear from her is through a mutual friend. No Emails, no phone calls. Last time we talked a bit longer she told me she did not remember where I live (about 5 miles down the road). This morning my friend told me, she was going to relax with her 2 cats... one of which has died a year ago. But I see my own cats in the yard - one just healed up after being very sick. One has to cherish the memories. Sometimes life is hard.
So glad you did what you did - and that he recognized you and shared some old memories. And the small animal, which will forever be a memory now, too.
Ingrid- Sorry this has happened to your friend. Yes, unfortunately “Sometimes life is hard.” All we can do is love our family and friends, and do our best to support them, even if they can no longer reciprocate.
This is a deeply resonant journey, John, as I spend some time every week revisiting some of those friends "worth suffering for", many of whom are slowly evaporating into that fog of dementia. At 80 years and counting, those heart-wrenching visits are still life-giving!
That was very good, John Patrick!! Having grown up in So. Calif., and being removed by 45 yrs, the old friends have grown fewer. My oldest friend passed a few years ago. Your article stirred some great memories.
Lennis- In 2017, I moved away from the area I grew up in, and while I’m happy in another state, I realize distance affects friendships. We just don’t get to see each other frequently. And so I do my best to keep up. To phone, write, and stay connected.
Aging, old friends, lost memories and parents departed. Your narrative does paint a vivid picture of powerful reminders of yesterday's glory and today's reality. I'm sure many reading, "The Ones Worth Suffering For" would agree - you are a gem of a friend, John! As others have stated, this piece causes one to reflect and weep. It reminds me of the song by the The Kingston Trio - "Where Have All The Flowers Gone." A reminder to make the most of what precious life we have left - never to be duplicated.
Thank you, Richard. I think it’s good to look back, to smile at old exploits and mourn things lost. For me, it fosters occasional sadness, but also gratitude for my friendships. But it’s a delicate balancing act. There’s value in visiting the past, but we can’t live there. We have to embrace today, and the grace of tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
Thanks, Brenda. Samuel Beckett comes to mind: “The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.”
A touching story, John. Thank you for sharing it. I only wish you had included that photo you took of your friend. I have a friend whose sister has dementia. It is such a sad disease. Slow death. I'm glad you could meet your friend while his memories of you were still intact. Nice of you to sit through the service with him and visit afterward. Friends with such a long history are rare these days. I've lost many from my high school days, but have no contact with any before that.
My parents lived into their early 90s. I didn’t become an orphan until I was 73. I used to think how terrible it must’ve been for them to have lost their parents and most of their siblings virtually all their cousins, each had one sibling left but no childhood friends. If you look deep enough, you can see the losses in their eyes. Their blessing was a large and loving Italian family. Hurt is part of the deal. It lets you know that you loved and are loving.
Vincent—Yes, that’s one of the challenges with longevity, the loss of so many family and friends. In a way, though, perhaps it makes the prospect of death a little less intimidating. The knowledge that loved ones have gone before you. Or rather, they’ve gone ahead. Set up camp and a warm fire. And when you stumble out of the dark and arrive at their campsite, you are welcomed with open arms and warmth and love.
Ahh, Highway 17. Great food & entertainment at The Cats, great golf at Pasatiempo Golf Club and a wonderful banquet/entertainment venue at Nestldown. Getting to each of those venues, and others on Highway 17 - without dying on the way - was always tricky back in the day. Even today, with the K-rails installed, it’s no bargain. My buddy, who lived on Central Avenue in Los Gatos for many years, is also having dementia problems and more. His diagnosis of progressive supranuclear palsy is certainly no bargain. I will be visiting him in May at his new residence in San Diego. At least I won’t be going down treacherous Highway 17 to visit him! Thanks for the memories and the sincere and heartfelt storytelling of your encounter with your old friend.
Thanks, Tom. I’ve been to The Cats many times over the years, and Pasatiempo. Sorry your buddy is facing so much. I’m sure your visit will mean a great deal to you both.
Loss is not the same suffering as failing to love. When memories make loss grip your heart, and understand the value of what you had, there is joy if those memories held good life, friendship, caring even through life's ups and downs. When memories are about a failure to share in the other person's life with your best self, when your own weakness stood in your way, filling your horizon, and all you had was selfishness because without facing your weaknesses, your problems filled your world and didn't leave room for the love to grow. That is a loss, a vacancy, where love could have been, where taking responsibility for yourself could have made you a person who cultivated memories that are worth treasuring. Not to sound like the Ghosts of Christmas in Scrooge, but I would do anything to have written different words in my book of life. Yes, now the pages I write have life, and love, and happiness, and connection, and willingness to walk through the tough spots with those I love, and a deep value of changing ways where I have failed myself, but I can't help wishing I could corner my younger self in a room and punch her out :)
You’re not alone, Elizabeth. None of us get it right every time, and regrets are a reality for most people. Deep down, I think loved ones know the better angels in your heart. They know that personal struggles sometimes get in the way. But even then, the sense of mutual love remains.
Brenda-Gotta love Anne Lamott. And this gorgeous line, at the end of her piece: “Writers show us the glades we’d somehow missed, the trickling voices of streams, the eyes of a barn owl watching us.”
Great and touching writing John. As we age we learn lots but we start to lose lots too. Our parents, some of our friends, some of our strength and abilities, and ultimately our life. Good on you for making the effort to visit your old friend, that’s something special and those things need doing as we get older. Savour the special things, water the garden and make more memories.
Thanks, Alan. Especially your closing line: “Savour the special things, water the garden and make more memories.”
Oh John, you made me cry again. Thank you. 🩷🦝
Thanks for reading, Kristin.
that says it all...
This is beautifully written, and deeply moving. Your image of the “darkening marine layer” stayed with me—it feels like such a powerful picture of dementia, how it rolls in slowly, softening the edges of memory until the ones we love are harder to see clearly. I’ve watched it happen to friends and family, and your story captures that quiet heartbreak so well. Thanks for sharing.
Ron-Yes, it’s so hard to see afflicted loved ones disappear into themselves. All we can do is go on loving them.
“If we didn’t care, there’d be no sting to loss. No suffering when loved ones die or slowly evaporate into the darkening marine layer of dementia. And for this reason, I wept on my drive back over Highway 17.”
A most beautiful story.
Many thanks, Deborah.
Well composed and compactly constructed. I am touched by the care given to your friend by the other church goers; every little bit helps. Sadly, three of my friends are in such a state as yours, and moving along towards a slower, less-remembering future. Bob Marley was right and being with even your longest and best friends can become difficult, for certain. Yet such difficulties are part of our lives, and although some of our times together have brought me to tears afterwards, I give thanks for the opportunities to still be in touch, although the touches are fading with time. Should I so become, I hope to receive, acknowledge and be grateful for any such care and consideration, unsure even that I deserve it. Thank you for this piece, and your care for others. The racoon, as yourself, will continue on its missions as well for a good spell, I hope.
Thanks, John. I too was touched, even relieved, that the church staff was protective of him. I don’t remember what originally drew him to that church. Neither of his parents were religious. But thankfully, it has become a refuge and a familiar, safe space. And for that, I am grateful.
Since about a year this is happening to what once was my best friend. Children of another mother, we said. But after 5 years of scamdemic, where we barely met, we are now astranged, and the only thing I hear from her is through a mutual friend. No Emails, no phone calls. Last time we talked a bit longer she told me she did not remember where I live (about 5 miles down the road). This morning my friend told me, she was going to relax with her 2 cats... one of which has died a year ago. But I see my own cats in the yard - one just healed up after being very sick. One has to cherish the memories. Sometimes life is hard.
So glad you did what you did - and that he recognized you and shared some old memories. And the small animal, which will forever be a memory now, too.
Ingrid- Sorry this has happened to your friend. Yes, unfortunately “Sometimes life is hard.” All we can do is love our family and friends, and do our best to support them, even if they can no longer reciprocate.
This is a deeply resonant journey, John, as I spend some time every week revisiting some of those friends "worth suffering for", many of whom are slowly evaporating into that fog of dementia. At 80 years and counting, those heart-wrenching visits are still life-giving!
Thanks for the reminder.
Yes, it is life-giving to visit old friends, to show our love and support, no matter where their journey takes them. Thanks, Robert.
That was very good, John Patrick!! Having grown up in So. Calif., and being removed by 45 yrs, the old friends have grown fewer. My oldest friend passed a few years ago. Your article stirred some great memories.
Have a great wk!!
Lennis- In 2017, I moved away from the area I grew up in, and while I’m happy in another state, I realize distance affects friendships. We just don’t get to see each other frequently. And so I do my best to keep up. To phone, write, and stay connected.
Aging, old friends, lost memories and parents departed. Your narrative does paint a vivid picture of powerful reminders of yesterday's glory and today's reality. I'm sure many reading, "The Ones Worth Suffering For" would agree - you are a gem of a friend, John! As others have stated, this piece causes one to reflect and weep. It reminds me of the song by the The Kingston Trio - "Where Have All The Flowers Gone." A reminder to make the most of what precious life we have left - never to be duplicated.
Thank you, Richard. I think it’s good to look back, to smile at old exploits and mourn things lost. For me, it fosters occasional sadness, but also gratitude for my friendships. But it’s a delicate balancing act. There’s value in visiting the past, but we can’t live there. We have to embrace today, and the grace of tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
lol.. no doubt what that little animal was...
such sad story about your friend... but even sadder.. your ride home..
those tears are healing
Thanks, Brenda. Samuel Beckett comes to mind: “The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.”
I like that... feels connective ..as we all are
A touching story, John. Thank you for sharing it. I only wish you had included that photo you took of your friend. I have a friend whose sister has dementia. It is such a sad disease. Slow death. I'm glad you could meet your friend while his memories of you were still intact. Nice of you to sit through the service with him and visit afterward. Friends with such a long history are rare these days. I've lost many from my high school days, but have no contact with any before that.
Thanks, Bob. I took several photos but didn't share them to protect his and his family's privacy. Thanks for reading.
I love the quotes you insert into your narratives. They add so much depth to the content. Another heartfelt essay. Thank you.
Thanks, Bruce. I carry around little pocket notebooks and jot down notes and quotes from my reading.
My parents lived into their early 90s. I didn’t become an orphan until I was 73. I used to think how terrible it must’ve been for them to have lost their parents and most of their siblings virtually all their cousins, each had one sibling left but no childhood friends. If you look deep enough, you can see the losses in their eyes. Their blessing was a large and loving Italian family. Hurt is part of the deal. It lets you know that you loved and are loving.
Vincent—Yes, that’s one of the challenges with longevity, the loss of so many family and friends. In a way, though, perhaps it makes the prospect of death a little less intimidating. The knowledge that loved ones have gone before you. Or rather, they’ve gone ahead. Set up camp and a warm fire. And when you stumble out of the dark and arrive at their campsite, you are welcomed with open arms and warmth and love.
Ahh, Highway 17. Great food & entertainment at The Cats, great golf at Pasatiempo Golf Club and a wonderful banquet/entertainment venue at Nestldown. Getting to each of those venues, and others on Highway 17 - without dying on the way - was always tricky back in the day. Even today, with the K-rails installed, it’s no bargain. My buddy, who lived on Central Avenue in Los Gatos for many years, is also having dementia problems and more. His diagnosis of progressive supranuclear palsy is certainly no bargain. I will be visiting him in May at his new residence in San Diego. At least I won’t be going down treacherous Highway 17 to visit him! Thanks for the memories and the sincere and heartfelt storytelling of your encounter with your old friend.
Thanks, Tom. I’ve been to The Cats many times over the years, and Pasatiempo. Sorry your buddy is facing so much. I’m sure your visit will mean a great deal to you both.
Loss is not the same suffering as failing to love. When memories make loss grip your heart, and understand the value of what you had, there is joy if those memories held good life, friendship, caring even through life's ups and downs. When memories are about a failure to share in the other person's life with your best self, when your own weakness stood in your way, filling your horizon, and all you had was selfishness because without facing your weaknesses, your problems filled your world and didn't leave room for the love to grow. That is a loss, a vacancy, where love could have been, where taking responsibility for yourself could have made you a person who cultivated memories that are worth treasuring. Not to sound like the Ghosts of Christmas in Scrooge, but I would do anything to have written different words in my book of life. Yes, now the pages I write have life, and love, and happiness, and connection, and willingness to walk through the tough spots with those I love, and a deep value of changing ways where I have failed myself, but I can't help wishing I could corner my younger self in a room and punch her out :)
You’re not alone, Elizabeth. None of us get it right every time, and regrets are a reality for most people. Deep down, I think loved ones know the better angels in your heart. They know that personal struggles sometimes get in the way. But even then, the sense of mutual love remains.
I don’t know if this is allowed, but I’m gonna try - you will like this: https://annelamott.substack.com/p/from-whence-i-sprang
Brenda-Gotta love Anne Lamott. And this gorgeous line, at the end of her piece: “Writers show us the glades we’d somehow missed, the trickling voices of streams, the eyes of a barn owl watching us.”
I do love her and that’s a great line. I love how she reveres writers. You guys are my rock stars. 😄
Thanks, Brenda. I think Bird by Bird is one of her classics. And the best advice in it is to write the truth.