Brian, My Friend

I have been weeks away from this man. I met him when Sheree and I were in Rhode Island. He was standing at the top of an escalator, pointing a camera at us.

 

I grew to love him in the period of four days. I grew to love him like a true friend.

 

Let me tell you a little about Brian. I tread carefully, because I don't want to betray any confidences. But Brian is utterly devoted to his wife Gina...which speaks volumes to me. It simply means that we understand each other...and the core values that rule our hearts.

 

Brian has undergone a (an?) horrific disease. It has cost him all senses of taste. But he can still smell and when he smells he remembers the way it used to taste and he is content with that. When he packed a lunch for Sheree and me on the train, he included a note. I never even got notes in my lunchbox from my mother.

 

I loved talking to him and I loved hearing what he thought about everything from the burial of Ted Kennedy to the plight of street people. Frankly, I miss him.

 

I think of Gina calling him to the computer, to read to him these things. I can see the room in my mind's eye. I know it well.

 

It makes me smile because I know as he hears them that our friendship is cemented. Brian: I think of you often. And I miss you. So there.

 

Here he is standing looking out at the ocean. I wonder what he is thinking.

 

I promised not to show his face...but I think this image shows the heart of my friend in Rhode Island.

 

Even after all these days, the impression he has left on my heart is as indelible as ink. I look forward to sitting quietly with you again, Brian, sipping a beer and listening to our wives talking happily together upstairs...and knowing all is well in their worlds.

 

He doesn't photograph stuff...but he helps those of us who do. So say hello to a hero of mine. His name is Brian.

 

Be well, dear friend.

Done