Loneliness is a son of a bitch

Tonight, after phoning the few relatives I have left, and a couple of people I know locally, just to talk, and getting no response from any of them, I sent emails to two old friends, one in upstate New York and the other in Australia, both fellow widowers — to wit:

I must be dead, I have lost all contact with the living, even the lawn guy who lives three miles away.

To which the guy in upstate New York promptly replied:

Not so long as I’m doing research for you — The actress whose name we couldn’t remember last time we talked — about pretty women — is Kelli Giddish, Law and Order SVU. Lips to die for.

Loneliness is a son of a bitch

The email ended with a P.S. — You have a “lawn guy”??? wtf.

Which immediately triggered those ‘feel-good’ chemicals in my body, the good old endorphins, bringing forth a hearty laugh from my miserable soul.

I emailed back: Bless you, brother, and thank you for much needed contact with a friend — this loneliness is a capricious son of a bitch.

And then — embarrassment of riches — the friend in Australia who I’ve known since we spent a student summer mis-sorting mail in the post office, ‘rang up.’ That made my night.

Man, I tell ya, friends beat relatives every time.


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