friendship

I'll never forget the day that Dad told me his best friend had died.  We were in Chick Fil A with all the boys having lunch, and when he told me, I burst into tears.  In the middle of the restaurant, and not in a quiet way.

It's interesting, how things hit you like that.

I know my reaction was strong, because my dad is not getting any younger. 

And also, because all of his friends are slowly dying.

Not this one, though, this handsome fella beside Dad in these pictures.

This is Larry Croft, my childhood best friend's dad.  Larry's wife Barbara died about a year ago, and Stacy took these pictures of him and texted them all to me.  He is a wonderful man, and his laughter is infectious.  He told Dad once that he might as well go ahead and add Stace to his life insurance policy.  And he blamed Dad for her new and expensive taste in food.  (Can you say crab legs, anyone?)

I love these guys.  I love their friendship. 

About Dad's best friend, though.  Billy died a few years ago now, and Dad gave the eulogy at his funeral.  He actually shared a copy of it with me, and I have it put up in a cabinet.  (I always keep everything he writes, and yes, he writes.  I suppose that gene came from him.)  I prayed for him during those days, because I cannot imagine how difficult that would have been.  Billy and he were in the Korean war together and they were stationed in Japan together for a few weeks.  (Dad was in the Navy, and he served in that war as a hospital corpsman.)

I can't even count how many stories I've heard of their younger days. 

What a gift to us, our friendships are.  May we never take them for granted.