My wonderful friend -- and a wonderful man -- Gary Walling.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I don’t usually cry when I see a box of Detroit Tigers animal cookies, but this box of Detroit Tigers animal cookies was a souvenir for my amazing friend Gary Walling—and my amazing friend Gary Walling died while we were on vacation in Michigan.
I had no idea until this morning, when I saw Gary’s obituary in the paper while I was riding the train to work. (Now that I spend time at the Soldiers Home, I also spend time checking the obituaries.) Gary had died one week earlier, on July 17. He was 70. (I never knew that before.)
As soon as I got off the train, I called Gary’s friend Doreen, his longtime companion and an extraordinary friend of the Soldiers Home. She said Gary had been in the hospital earlier but had come back home. She saw him Monday night; Tuesday morning, he awakened and passed away. Doreen is a strong, resilient woman who has been through a lot. She assured me she’d be OK.
But I hadn’t seen Gary my last few visits. I had knocked on his door a few times, but he never was there.
Gary was one of my favorite people anywhere—one of the wisest and smartest men I’ve ever met. I hadn’t known he was declining. I hadn’t known he was dying. I hadn’t said goodbye.
Gary’s death has hit me hard. My son and I were in Michigan for three weeks, and it flew by like a minute and a half. Gary was here when we left and gone when we got back—70 years gone like half an hour. Time, I am reminded once again, is so short—and so very precious.
I don’t usually cry when I see a box of Detroit Tigers animal cookies, but this box of Detroit Tigers animal cookies was a souvenir for my amazing friend Gary Walling—and my amazing friend Gary Walling died while we were on vacation in Michigan.
I had no idea until this morning, when I saw Gary’s obituary in the paper while I was riding the train to work. (Now that I spend time at the Soldiers Home, I also spend time checking the obituaries.) Gary had died one week earlier, on July 17. He was 70. (I never knew that before.)
As soon as I got off the train, I called Gary’s friend Doreen, his longtime companion and an extraordinary friend of the Soldiers Home. She said Gary had been in the hospital earlier but had come back home. She saw him Monday night; Tuesday morning, he awakened and passed away. Doreen is a strong, resilient woman who has been through a lot. She assured me she’d be OK.
But I hadn’t seen Gary my last few visits. I had knocked on his door a few times, but he never was there.
Gary was one of my favorite people anywhere—one of the wisest and smartest men I’ve ever met. I hadn’t known he was declining. I hadn’t known he was dying. I hadn’t said goodbye.
Gary’s death has hit me hard. My son and I were in Michigan for three weeks, and it flew by like a minute and a half. Gary was here when we left and gone when we got back—70 years gone like half an hour. Time, I am reminded once again, is so short—and so very precious.
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