Larry

For years, we went for Chinese food
Most every Friday night;
Our sons, best friends both then and now,
Made sure that we’d unite.

But conversation always flowed
For Larry kept things fresh,
Ensuring that both kids’ and grown-ups’
Talk was sure to mesh.

From sports to work to politics,
The theater or the news,
His love of life from all his pores
Did readily effuse.

A diehard baseball lover
And an athlete from his youth,
A highlight of his childhood was
A catch with – yes, Babe Ruth!

His patients and his softball league
And friends kept life exciting,
But Larry couldn’t rest until
He’d published all his writing.

Just Stories is his legacy,
Of which he was so proud
And if you’d read a tale or two,
I’m sure that you’d be wowed.

Though Larry fought the bravest fight,
No matter what the cost,
The cancer finally had its way
And sadly, Larry lost.

I’ll not forget this gentle soul,
A caring, special friend,
Who brightened everybody’s days
Until the very end.

death of a friendrhyme

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Andrea Dietrich

January 21, 2014 at 7:17 PM

He sounds like a marvelous person, Ilene. Was he the friend of your son you mentioned at the beginning?

Robert Pettit

January 21, 2014 at 1:50 PM

Larry must have been someone very special to you the way you have described him here. Great write as usual, Ilene.

Robert Johnson

January 18, 2014 at 1:53 PM

Eight stanza's surely tell a tale of what he meant to you. He sounds as though he was the kind of friend who was true blue. A stand up guy, who by and by would help you all get through. So now when friday night rolls round and fortunes still get read. That emptiness you feel inside is how you will be fed. Reminding you of what he meant just being a good friend. And hoping you'll be missed that much when your times at an end. Peace. Keep smiling ilene. He'd want it that way. :)

Ilene Bauer

January 18, 2014 at 2:57 PM

wow! what a wonderfully written comment! much appreciated, robert!