That's what friends do

We couldn’t find him anywhere.

We called out his nickname: Johno. We made jokes at his expense knowing his sarcastic chuckle or, when something really got to him, his deep huge guffaw would give him away.

He was with his grandparents we were told.

We had the whole place to ourselves. Well, except for the residents and they weren’t talking.

He died in February but wasn’t buried until June (Michigan winters and frozen ground.) We thought we’d find his grave easily enough. Yet disturbed ground or a new marker at least but John Clyde just wasn’t there for us.

John C. Brandon, 1990

I suppose that’s fitting. A bit of a joke on us since we couldn’t make it to his funeral. I arrived back in the state just an hour after his funeral ended.

The point is, he was always there as a very long term friend is and neither of us made it to his send off. We feel especially bad because I’d just talked to him about the three of us having dinner when I got back from my travels. And then he was gone.

He’d been confined to a wheelchair. Years of dialysis had taken its toll. So many health problems setting in and bodily systems shutting down. Still, always cheerful and ready to play.

John had come into my life with my first husband. Best friends since kindergarten they were. BFFs long before acronyms became the language of lazy teens.

While divorce often gives custody of friends to the spouse who brought them into the marriage, John was among the few who assumed joint custody quite comfortably.

Our politics were 180-degrees. We never hesitated to make sure the other understood our position ---- not always so respectfully expressed…yet somehow the overall respect remained and we remained in touch even though our lives took us in very different directions.

Since his death, we have both felt that we didn’t get to properly say goodbye or pay tribute to a loyal, decent, funny guy.

So, here we were on a day trip to say finally pay our respects in our own way. A CD of John Denver and a quart of milk (he was addicted to milk) replaced by a pot of mums because I couldn’t find the CD. But no luck and while I doubt he’s rolling in his grave (he was cremated), he’s definitely guffawing at us from above.

He knows us too well. We won’t give up. I’ll call the small town’s city hall and his address, section and plot numbers. Then, I’ll find the CD and we’ll make another day trip to say farewell because he was always a friend and that’s what friends do.


In memory of John C. Brandon (1955-2016)

Post Script 9.3.2016 - We found John after calling the city clerk for the burial plot. Just in time for his birthday. His nephew told us that a marker wasn't in place yet so we took our own...and his favorite drink for a toast.

Now Playing... John C. Brandon on piano with John Denver sitting in on vocals. Play on friend! Play on!