| My dear dear dear friend, Bob Johnson died. I just got a phone call from Sue, his wife. Bob phoned me before his surgery, but I called back too late to reach him before he left for the NYC hospital. He and I have been friends and flirts and loved each other ever since we met in Mr Fusco's algebra class my first year at Conard High School. No matter where he or I went throughout our lives, we'd find each other somehow and phone, or visit, and talk and talk and reminisce and play catch up. He has a daughter, Katie, a young woman. Recently he sent me a photo of both Katie and Sue. According to Rob, Katie used "denial" as her "drug of choice" regarding RRJ's cancer once he was diagnosed. He was doing great on his chemo, so we were all so hopeful. When they determined the cancer was small enough to excise without impacting his heart, they scheduled the surgery. According to Sue, the surgery on Wednesday the 18th, went well, and the next day he was up and grumbling about "the damn ice chips" he was only allowed to have - he's hungry! On Friday, Sue and he were laughing and having breakfast in hospital. They expected him to be home by Sunday. About 1:00PM the RNs and/ or MDs saw his Oxygen levels dropping. Things turned to crap from there. I didn't want to push Sue too much about details, I let her tell me what she could. They intubated him, and according to Sue, they kept him alive, and working on him, until his daughter, Katie could make it to NYC to say goodbye. I recall what it was like with my Dad, and hope that that isn't what she remembers of her Dad. Sue & Katie will be moving into the Johnson family's long time home on the street formerly known as Oswegetchie Road. Bob's cat will be living there, and I hope that he will accept the family and family pets when they move in, and visa versa. He's such a piece of Bob, and was always such a comfort and joy to him. RRJ always was a cat-person. You gotta love a man who is a cat-person! All the animals in the neighborhood would visit their home; they always fed strays, and had a plethora of visitors. A long time Johnson family tradition! I wish I could reach Rich and Nancy and send them my love and tell them how much I miss him. I sure hope Bob's Mom isn't driving him as nutsy now as she always seemed to do on planet earth. His Mom chose the name "Robert Ryan" for him because she adored the actor. I'm sure his Dad welcomed him with a big ol' swedish "manly man" thumping hug. I just remember so many days spent at his home in WH and also his beach home. There were many days of being on the boat, and overniters in the boat. And fishing, sharking and adventures we had. Visits to DC, meeting his then roomie, the incomparable Ray Surette. Christmases celebrated, and apartments shared. Always the love and joy and tears and "if onlys" along with the shoulda woulda couldas. I was there when his Dad took ill. Jim bought Bob's Austin Healy 3000. His folks came over with Bob one thanksgiving. RRJ was in my 8mm film. Peg went boating with me, Rob and Rich. I knew Blackie and met Rich's dog that was part wolf. Rob was there for me right after Paul and I broke up. On and on and on, our journeys were always intermingling. It's such a dark hole in the world now where he's not anymore. No more "Diamonds and Rust" phone calls. I can't imagine that piece missing in my life. He was one of my best friends. He even visited me way back when I was in the hospital, and I had no recollection of same until he recently told me. He did finally tell me he loved me - and I held nothing back either. I hope he knows I love him and he forgives my not having caught him by phone prior to his surgery. Damn. They already had a wake for him, and they will ultimately follow his wishes and cremate him and scatter the ashes off his boat in Long Island Sound. Sue wants an autopsy first and it's now about the living, so I said nothing, but I know he'd hate that. But, soon, his Pisces water sign (Rob's birthday is February 22nd), will be able to hang out in the ocean; it will cleanse and renew his spirit. I hope the currents do it's job so that he finds his way to me -- maybe in some Salmon's fishiness, or a drop of water splashing me, and he says hello. It hurts so much. I don't know how to "make it better". We needed eachother and I let him down before the surgery. He kind of thought I had "magical" insight and could help him be well. He trusted me when I told him he'd get better.
It had worked so far, and I know it helped him knowing that I "had his back". I just can't shake the feeling that I did something wrong and let him down by not connecting prior to his surgery. Marilyn would call it "magical thinking" on my part, and a piece of my "old trauma" reasserting itself, but it doesn't diminish the guilt and sadness and the missing him. Robert Ryan Johnson, Bob, Rob, dearheart, man of the water, and lover of cats, I love and miss you more than you can know. xo+
Peace.
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