Remember the Dead

Today, Ron and I are going to a memorial service for George. I believe that I am partly responsible for George's death, although I'm not certain. George died two days after I square danced with him at summer camp. I do remember the caller telling George to stand like a statue so that I could turn him.

Ron and I knew George through a men's social group as well as through summer camp. We didn't know him very well; it was a social friendship, more from a distance. We knew about each other, but didn't really know him that well.

So today's memorial service gives us a chance to say goodbye to George, and maybe we'll get to know him just a bit more than we did when he was alive. The George I knew was smiling, kinda loud, sexy and sexual, and not a little bit stubborn - at least he appeared that way to me. He looked like a prophetic character out of a DeMille film, except George usually had fewer clothes on. He was energetic to the very end, and even though he was only in my peripheral vision, he won't be in my montage anymore, and it will certainly be a little less colorful for that.

Someday, I'll die. I'm pretty sure there will be a memorial service. I hope that people who just knew me a little might show up and discover something they didn't know. All of us have a story, and all of us deserve to be remembered, and George, I'm going to be there at your memorial because you really were part of my life.