Each time his response would be, “Really!?!” He would then sit back in his chair with a satisfied smile and nod, excited once again to realize why he and I were such close friends.
All this suddenly changed last year, when despite the fact that I had forgotten to call him for once, Richard called me on my birthday (although I have a sneaking suspicion that his remembrance of my birth date was the work of Mina Frannea). I was having a rough year and he knew it and wanted to reach out. Richard always wanted the best for me and the other’s around him that he loved. He hated watching us stumble through the same mistakes he had made in life and had already learned the lessons from. I’ll never forget that he could (mostly) never remember when I was born and that he couldn’t tell the difference between a rubber chicken and a rubber duck.
Richard’s birthday was yesterday and mine is tomorrow.
Happy Birthday, my friend. It’s not easy being without your wit. I miss you.
Andrew. E. C. Gaska