Monday, April 7, 2014

Friendship/Dedicated to Bill Bream

Friendship
                Dedicated to Bill Bream
 A dear friend passed away a few days ago.  Interestingly, I had never met this gentleman in person.  He was a client of our business and in the course of communicating we developed a close relationship.   No, I’m not talking about an online romance by any stretch of the imagination.  Just a close friendship.  I told him about my depression and my husband’s ongoing battle with nearly crippling neuropathy.  He was a photographer and sent me gorgeous shots of Yosemite, flowers in his garden, birds…I believe many of his photos were featured in various publications. 

He was a gentleman but with a bawdy sense of humor.  He apologized for the first off-color joke he sent to me, saying he was out of line and hoped I wasn’t.  I responded with a huge “LOL” and a note that explained I have five sons, no daughters.  My sense of humor has been warped by them.  The joke was incredibly funny and not so off color as to offend.  And so back and forth it went.  Not every day, but a few times a week I would find something in my e-mail’s inbox from him.  A joke, information to pass along to John about the situation with various crops in the central valley of California (we provide ag-specific weather reports to farmers and agribusiness in the San Joaquin Valley, a place where much of the food you eat is grown and produced), rainfall amounts at his location during the few times it rains, wind speed when it’s actually a bit windy…lots of information that we deemed invaluable…and political information.  Congress is in the process of appropriating water that was granted to farmers decades ago.  Congress has already done this to farmers on the west side of the valley, a region that is now not much more than a dust bowl.  Millions-perhaps billions- of dollars in farmland now lies fallow. 

Anyway, this client became an invaluable source of information while becoming a beloved friend.  He shared his pride in his wife.  On Facebook, he would post pictures of projects his wife had completed.  She’s an amazingly creative woman.  You name it, she can do it.  Quilting, stamping, gardening, sewing…I don’t think there’s anything she can’t do.  Pictures were posted of a tea party setting she created in their garden.  I wish I could have attended.  It was a true garden party, a shabby chic setting requiring the finest in dresses and beautiful sun hats or parasols.  I’m sure the food was amazing.  This couple grows oranges and I would bet oranges played a role in the delicacies whipped up by this amazing woman.  Our friend’s pride in her made him even more special to me.  He wasn’t afraid to share his love of this incredible woman. 

On the other end of the scale, his wife wasn’t afraid…and likely still is not afraid… to share her love of this man.  She would post pictures of projects he took on for her.  Building a garden house in just her style, gardening with her, and many other types of creations designed to please her.  She quite obviously cherishes his work as they are physical testimonies of his love for her.  I can understand this clearly as my husband also cherishes me and loves me deeply.  I recognized in my friend’s words, pictures, and communication his love for his wife.  Oh, I’m sure they had their problems from time to time, but love won out over disagreements. 

So, no, our friendship was not an online romance, just a close friendship based on common interests.  And jokes.  I looked forward to opening my email in the morning to see what he had sent.  It always generated a laugh from both me and from hubby, something that was occasionally hard to do because of our illnesses.  This man knew that and I truly believe he deliberately set out to gain at least a chuckle from us, or a groan from a bad pun.  And he had a million of them.  I’m sure his family benefited from his sense of humor.  I knew we did.

Maybe it’s difficult to understand why I grieve so at the passing of this man.  We had never shaken hands, had a friendly hug of greeting, shared a meal, or just kicked back in that gorgeous garden and chatted.  Never looked eye to eye while telling a story.  Yet, I grieve at his passing.  The morning of the day he died he sent an email with the rain total at his location.  I remember clearly that it was .36 (that’s a gullywasher by Tulare County standards) and that it was in red print.  Just that morning he was alive and, to my knowledge, well.  Then he was gone. 

Friendships don’t require seeing one another face to face.  This gentleman is not the only friend I have who I’ve never actually met.  I have a bunch of Facebook friends and blog friends I’ve never met, yet I treasure their friendship, too.  I know some of them would be there in a heartbeat if I needed something.  I believe they know I’ve got their back, too.  Then there are the friends made over the years with whom I’ve been able to reconnect courtesy of Facebook.  They’re scattered far and wide, and we don’t communicate every day, but I know they think about me just as I think about them.  I pray for them and know they do for me.  They cheer me on, cheer me up, and cheer for me when something goes well.  They have words of support and love when something has gone wrong in my life.  I cherish their friendships, as well.


But I will say this one gentleman holds a special place in my heart.  I can’t explain it.  Something about his spirit touched mine.  He’s been on my mind a great deal since his passing.  A few days ago I said yet another little prayer for him, and for myself.  I heard something at the window and looked up.  A finch of a type I’ve never seen before sat on the window ledge looking directly at me.  We stared at one another for quite a bit…a good two or three minutes…and I smiled.  This little bird flew off.  I don’t believe in coincidence.  And I do know of Bill’s love of the natural world.  Was this a message to me, to not worry or grieve, that he truly has wings with which to fly?  I’m certain of it.  Friendships can flourish across miles.  And death doesn’t mean the end, just a change as we communicate spirit to spirit.  My dad still sends me baseballs.  Oh, I don’t expect my friend to show up at my window all the time, or even any more at all.  It’s enough for me that I believe he did once, once to show that he treasured our friendship, too.  

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