'GOOD BYE, MY FRIEND'

          Growin’ up, there were three of us… Marty, Tony, and myself. If you saw one, chances were you’d see the other two, as well. To say that we were good friends is an understatement; we were closer than brothers even.

Marty Harrod
1969 - 2014

          Once grown, life took each of us in different directions, and as oftentimes happens; we got busy with our own families and adult lives. No longer did we spend spring afternoons together at Mason’s Lake reelin’ in hand-sized Bluegills or the first Saturday in September huntin’ doves together on opening-day. Yet, still… the bond between us was still there, the memories we shared from our teenage years were still strong. When we did get to see each other, it was obvious by the big bear hugs and ear-to-ear grins that the ties between us were still strong, and for the next half hour or more, time would stand still as we caught up on what was going on in each other’s lives. And over the past quarter of a century, during the toughest times of our lives, we’ve always been there for one another.

1969 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme convertible

          I have never, in my entire life, been so stunned as I was, on Saturday, when I got the call from my youngest daughter, telling me that Marty had died that morning. He’d had a heart attack, she said. My own heart instantly broke. I had to get off of the phone. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think. I told her that I had to go, and she understood.

          A hundred things flooded my mind all at once… immediate concern for his family… his wife of 20+-years, their daughter, who is just a year or two behind my own… oh, and, Lord… how that li’l boy of his absolutely worships the ground his Daddy walked on. How will he take it? How will any of them? My heart literally ached for them.

Marty dancing with Ms. Cleveland (1987)

          And then came the memories… how we’d first met, at church it was, back in the 8^th grade; about the time we rolled the school guidance counselor’s yard at the behest of our drafting teacher; and how Marty had actually slow-danced with the principal at our Senior Prom. I thought of our gettin’ to hunt doves over at the Ridleys’ that one year; it turned out to be THE BEST dove hunt any of us ever had. And I remembered the night of our high school graduation, when afterwards we celebrated together at the Hungry House and stuck Mr. Presley, our drafting teacher, with the bill. Marty’s ’69 Cutlass convertible with its white interior and white soft top; it’s still one of my favorite cars of all time. That beautiful old Fox double-barreled 12-gauge that was handed down to him; he could make some of the darnedest shots you ever did see with that ol’ scatter gun. And how could I ever forget how, on my 19^th birthday, that big lug snuck up on me from behind, bear-hugged me, told me ‘Happy Birthday’, and gave me a peck on the cheek, then ran like the dickens to get away. The only time I’ve ever been kissed by a feller. LOL  Yes, I remembered. I remembered so many things from ‘back-in-the-day’, and even through the tears and hurt, my heart grew warm and I had to smile. They were good memories.

          Soon after, Marty’s sister-in-law called me and asked if I would let our friends know. I told her, of course, I would. It was late that afternoon when I finally reached Tony by phone. My voice broke as I informed him of our friend’s passing. He took the news much as I did; he was stunned, shocked into silence. On my end of the conversation, the tears flowed steadily as we eventually began reminiscing about old times and the three of us.

          A part of me is at peace, because I KNOW without a doubt where Marty is, now. He’s in Heaven. And, I’m sure his Daddy and his Granddaddy Dennis were waitin’ at them pearly gates to greet him with big ol’ back-slappin’ hugs. And, Lawd… just think of how Marty’s face must’ve lit up when he saw Grandmother Harrod, again.

          Yep… I miss my friend already. Regardless of where we were or what was goin’ on or who was around, it never would do him to simply shake my hand, he insisted always on bear huggin’ me, instead. I’m gonna miss that… that, and that big ol’ infectious grin of his! My friend Marty was the kind of person that could brighten up any room by simply walking into it. He never met a stranger, and to the best of my knowledge, he was a friend to all. He genuinely cared about folks and was always tryin’ to show it. I wish I was half the man Martin Ruffin Harrod was.

          This evenin’, I go to say ‘goodbye’ to an old friend; one that, although we didn’t get to see one another as often as we might’ve liked, is still very dear to my heart. It will not be an easy task. The loss of a friend never is. But two things do bring me comfort this day… the first, that the Good Lord has promised that I WILL see my friend again one day; the second, that I have enough heart-warming memories of those three boys to last me ‘til we’re all back together, again, smilin' and laughin'.