On mourning the death of a high school friend

With Dan at Sylvester's Restaurant, 2015

It was so great to have a high school classmate living in the area. I could get together with Dan Green – Danny to high school friends – without missing a beat even if we hadn’t seen each other for a while. His wife, Sabrina Hamilton, was so much younger then, meaning that at Friends Seminary, where she in the class below us, a year made a difference, just like those in the class above us seemed so much cooler. But when Sabrina and Danny came over for dinner when my sister-friend Emily was at my house a few years ago, there wasn’t any difference. After they left, we both said that there was nothing like having the common language of having shared those special years.

Once, I told Katie that eleventh grade was the best year of my life, and she said, “MOM!” Meaning, what about the kids. I backed up and said it was the best year before kids. Danny was part of that whole picture, one of the best years BEFORE kids.

In modern days, he did my website for me, for free. I took him out to breakfast at a favorite hangout, Sylvester’s, in Northampton. A couple of summers ago we had dinner before going to one of Sabrina’s cool offerings at the Ko Festival. Last summer I met him there, and we chatted during intermission about his recent health problems and his slow but steady improvement. In the past six months or so we had been trying to get together. He had said he wasn’t quite up to it. Then one day we were going to do it. I think I remember it being a cold, damp day. Neither of us wanted to go out of the house. He said something along the lines of let’s blow it off and we’ll see each other soon. I said I’d come to their house and take a walk in the neighborhood. He said he’d let me know when he was up to it.

Besides our high school connection, we had both been through some tough times and come out the other end. We shared the ability, actually the need, to laugh about it. He had a funny little sardonic smile. He was hosting my website and said not to worry about it, he would pay the small fee and it would be all good. “Unless I croak,” he said.

I don’t understand the Facebook algorithms where you see some things and not the others. In any case I didn’t even know that he had had a hip replacement. But when I looked back last night, I saw that Sabrina had posted that he had the hip replacement and was doing well. Then Tami called and said she had devastating news. She had seen Sabrina’s post. He was home and was doing well. Then, she wrote, “But last night at about midnight, we suddenly lost this kindest, funniest, gentlest of men.”

I don’t know how this happened. I guess we’ll find out in the coming days. I just know that it is devastating and shocking and unexpected. The mortality rate after total hip replacement is approximately 0.25 percent. That means, it is extremely rare. Underlying health conditions add the to risk factor. In addition to the question about how it happened, there is the question of whether on that rainy day I should have gotten myself together to go meet him. I wish I had done it, but you can’t second-guess these things, because on that day, neither of us was up to it, and that was that. I mostly feel so sorry for Sabrina. She had written that they were looking forward to a pain-free life together. He had had his share of pain and was getting past all of that. High school friends are family. We have lost one of the sweetest, kindest family members.