Some friends....

 There are some friends, some friendships, that you never know the depth of until too late. My friend Tom, a friend to our family, was a hippie soul. He had a longish beard and wanted everyone to be happy and he had a very sacred relationship with his savior. But mostly, he was an advocate I didn't even realize that I had. My mom told me after he passed how he started looking out for me long before I ever knew it. She told me about how he had approached about how I was old enough to wear young lady dresses to church, not just cutesy little girl ones. How it's important for blossoming girls (my words, I have no idea what wording he used with my mom), to feel good about themselves. And the dress mom and I picked out. I wore it to death. I mean I think it died a thread bare saddened death because of excessive wear. 

My dad, was a good dad. To the best of his broken ability. And he often included me and loved me and did good dad things. And Tom was there to fill in the gaps. To tell me I could do anything I set me mind to, to accept me as I was, to see my brain, not just my too-soon-developed-sexy-teenage-body. My friend Tom passed away too soon. Twenty years this summer. Wow. And he was young, so young. Especially since I've aged 20 years since then! Now I know how terribly young he was! 

Today is Tom's birthday and I'm flooded with memories. Memories of childhood when he and Dad would head to the dirt track every weekend with me sandwiched in between them in the cab of the pickup. His dry, wry sense of humor that sometimes hurt my feelings when I was a child (like when I tripped in the weeds and he and dad laughed and laughed and laughed and asked me what I found down there...) When he and I would go out "cruising" (and drinking, but no need to mention this to my mother) to surrounding towns to talk about whatever teenage crisis I might be facing. Or not facing, sometimes we just cruised and listened to the music and enjoyed the silence, no pressure. Times when I took solace in a visit to He and his wife's house for a weekend, or the night, to escape life. I am struck my his head bowed in prayer, his voice reverent, his posture humble. 

Later, after death, I am struck by how he provided for his wife. How she and I carried on and built on the basis of friendship we had and how she is now one of "my people." How Tom's gentleness carried on. 

I miss him. Twenty years later, I miss him. 

Happy Birthday friend. You were and are amazing. 

Click on the slice to go to today's Slice of Life blog and scroll to the comments, you will find many links to little glimpses of lots of people's SOLS for today.