Simpatico

A dear friend lost her dad this morning. It was not a surprise—he was in hospice—although of course it was a shock to her when it finally happened.

He had as good a death as one could have under the circumstances, and I was grateful for that.

My dad was not so lucky.

I've been in close touch with my friend these past few weeks, and she called to tell me the news within hours.

She also told me that I'd been a particular comfort to her during this terrible time, that I'd known what to say and how frequently to reach out. We were both very close to our dads, and I think I just had a sixth sense about what she needed—the legacy of my father's death, I imagine.

This friend never met my dad, but I know that he would have loved her, and vice versa.

I never met her dad, either, but I can tell that I would have adored him.

And I have no doubt that our two dads would have been fast friends, had they ever met. They were contemporaries and had a lot in common—both from Brooklyn, both Navy men, both devoted to the loves of their lives.

So I'm hoping that they are meeting now, comparing notes about their wives and kids, talking about Brooklyn back in the day, trading old jokes, and remembering happier times.

And I'm hoping that my friend is being sustained by warm memories and the love not only of her family and friends but of all those who knew and loved her dad.