Sometimes I wish I had a chance to feel…
I was at lunch with one of my very dearest friends (Tim Fox; theboynamedfred.livejournal.com) when I received a call from my dad.
He was calling to inform me that Sammie Williams had died.
For as long as I can remember, whenever I’d go downtown to visit my dad at work, there would be Sammie, a very pleasant, very wonderful African-American man who worked for the security company that provided the security for the building where my dad works. He and my dad were “as thick as thieves”, as they say, always talking about their lives. Sammie worked with my dad until a couple of years ago, when his diabetes became so unmanageable that he couldn’t work anymore. Within the past two years, my family and I would visit and talk with Sammie when we got the chance.
Sammie tried calling my dad the other day, but my dad missed the call. My dad had intended on calling him back, when he found out today that Sammie had passed away of a heart attack. My dad told me how horrible he felt that he didn’t get a chance to call Sammie back, which just made me feel sad about Sammie and sad for my dad.
As I hung up the phone, I cried. I’m glad Tim was there for me, as he’s always been able to pick up my sprits; I still had a piano jury, a skit performance, a rehearsal and a voice jury to get through. Without him, I don’t know if I could have made it.
It’s so sad to think that this man who I had always seen as a constant in my childhood has now left this earth. It makes me aware of my mortality, my shortcomings, my regrets, my fears…
What makes me feel worse is that I had to grieve, and then almost immediately move on…
R.I.P. Sammie, I’ll miss you.