In honor

The news came and his death wasn't much of a surprise. It is easy today to worry about his family and those he left behind, because for sure their burden is great and when you right down to it only the survivors remain. Dead lasts forever. But it is the dead we write about tonight.

Frankie was the black sheep of his family. Well, one of the two black sheep. The one who survived his younger brother's submission to aids. Who survived what I surmise to be a hellish childhood. Who saw his younger sister become devout.

He was the friend to the lost and underprivileged...that is to say the children. Like them, he never really fit into adult culture. He only fit in at the edges. At least this was my perception of him. I didn't really know him that well, only seeing him at Christmas time or at weddings and funerals. He seemed "cool" when he was young, out of control in early adulthood, pathetic for a few years, and then a more grounded bohemian in middle age. I guess that is what I always liked about him. His bohemian spirit. Something I long for myself. Something I long ago let go of yet try to regain every day in small ways.

He was always a warm greater. Ready to chat with me, which for sure is a bad sign by itself. He was a want a be bad boy who sometimes achieved it, although he was never bad in my presence. If anything he was just a bit out of touch around folks. Or maybe too in touch. Or maybe just not so good at faking it.

He finally settled on a wife...or two...or three. It was hard to tell. Every time I saw him, he introduced someone new until I gave up on his ability to sustain a relationship. It was just then that he maintained one. Three years or so until he passed. And now he has a widow.

He died relatively young...i guess. Older than me, but not by much. He died unexpectedly. He will not be considered a saint by anyone. But he will be remembered for the quick wit, quicker smile, an genuine caring.

Or at least the appearance of so.

See you Frankie. It won't be long.