A childhood friend passed away today, at the age of 40.

His name was Anil .

To a 20 yr old, 40 may sound old…..

I can see how that can be seen as such by someone half our age . But  I am still having babies,still going to school,some of my friends haven’t even been married yet. Many of us are still waking up to our dreams,some of us,still dreaming new ones.

Forty, is not old . Our lives have just begun,whether we have a partner,a spouse, and or children .

We all grew up in the same village. We,referring to our little group of friends.

I was the only girl in the group. Not that kind of girl.

It was a true friendship amongst all of us.

I was cute and princess like, I like to think, but I was one of the boys .

All of us would often hang out at my quaint,childhood home,shared by my siblings and parents.We would play cards,and drink coffee,tell ghost stories and freak each other out.

As we got older coffee turned to cigarettes ,and older even,into a drink of alcohol here and there . No drugs,ever.

Anil had three other brothers. I had three brothers, one older,the other two younger.  Each of Anil’s  siblings and  mine about 2 – 3 yrs older than the next sibling.

My sister came along much later, when I was sixteen years old .

She would only hear of the tales,as we told them today.

There were others in our little click,for lack of better word.

We were more than clicks. We were childhood friends,we were neighbors and each others protectors.

As we all grew up,we witnessed tragedies of other friends,not part of our immediate group,but definetely a part of our world .

We lost elementary and high school ‘part of our close world” friends,even ones we thought we had crushes on,to tragedies like car crashes,suicide, and diseases.

We saw other neighborhood friends lose their spouses to divorce and even cancer.

As we saw our parents age,if you want to call sixty aged,we endured the loss of some of our parents . My Dad was one of the parents, four years ago.

Today, we lost Anil .

Anil was as handsome as it gets. He was controversial,a talker and a fighter with his words. A boy with dreams,a man with so much potential.

He travelled all over the world with the local cricket team.

He played games against famous English cricket teams.

He was in the papers,named the teams most valued player.

He graduated with honors and at a very young age became a teacher/lecturer at the University he graduated from.

Not sure about the precise details,but somewhers at the University he met his future wife. The love of his life .

I heard they got married in a civil ceremony,bought their home near the University,and everyone knew of tales of love and completeness .

I dont know what came first,the drinking or the breakup,but I know the break up made him drink incessantly .

His wife seemingly happy, after a few years well with him, left the home one morning, and later that fateful day, which I believe led to this this day, Anil was served with divorce papers.

His tragic story unfolds where it seems this intelligent, even proud man, who found love and success, was now broken .

He eventually lost his job,as he was intoxicated at work.

His car was taken from him, for his safety, and his brothers took over his house payments to save the home he made with his wife, the home that he would never live in again, without her.

He moved back in with his parents and his siblings into their childhood home.

A huge, modern home .

I remember when they were struggling . I remember their old two bedroom home .

The father,a teacher,worked hard to make a better life for his family.

He gave Math lessons on the side,and his wife made home made treats they sold to the kids that took math lessons out of their home.

Today, the father is a retired principal, in his sixties,with a Math book to his name.

He no longer struggles….financially .

One son, an Attorney, one a teacher, and one in Radio, and Anil,the handsome cricketer,talented University Teacher.

Anil collapsed two days ago at his childhood home,was rushed to the hospital.

He went into a coma and died.

I live 3000 miles away from my foreign birthplace.

I may not see my child hood friends for years at a time. But we have met up at vacation trips home for special  occassions,or they  dropped in here and visited with me, in the States. We have attended each others weddings and birthdays,even if just in Spirit and in emails .We have shared amny tears together,long distance .

When we meet its like no time has passed, and we are all 9, or 10, or 15 years old again.

Anil’s brother, Adesh, I was closest to in the  group of us. We both, recently have been emailing each other more,in addition to the holiday and birthday greetings.

Exactly 2 days ago,I swear, I wondered how Anil was doing,and second guessed myself about asking his brother, as I knew it was a topic that over the years that had many sad twists for the family .

I didnt end up asking .

I called my Mom,as I do daily,and she told me about Anils state .

I wished that I had sent him an email,one time even .

My brothers remained his friend, even as others had deserted him, even as he would slip in and out of his sensible speech, into sometimes not so lucid comments, probably generated from  a not so lucid mind,any more.

He was in rehab  three times .

I wondered, how many times had he cried in silencefor his wife,for the life he knew he was losing to alcohol.

Today,my brother Garvin,two years younger than I had another birthday.

I avoid using the word celebrate,as when I called my brother today to wish him great birthday wishes,he was at Anils home,helping his family prepare the home for the next two days when villagers and friends and family will drop by to share a drink,a memory and  tear.
Garvin saw him at the hospital yesterday . He wished he had not.

He said he was in the coma, and was almost unrecognizable .

The funeral is on Sunday .

I expressed to Adesh today on the phone as I called in my condolonces,that I couldnt believe we were preparing for Anil’s funeral.

He said to me, “life is impatient ,” and I thought, how true, it waits on no one.

The phone was passed around to other members of our old click ,as they each said their hellos to me.

Those who werent there yet,were on their way.

How ironic I thought, maybe if we were there for Anil last year,or the years before,after his wife left and before the alcohol took over,he would be here today.

My mom always says she sees us all of her kids,all five of us,as if we were no older than 4 years old . We certainly act like that when we are around her.

I wonder will Anils parents say goodbye to their son, the man, or the child, or both ? .

That a parent has to bury a child at any age,is tragic.

I know they will remember all the  special moments they spent with him, from the joy of pregnancy ,to first day at school,his first big deal accomplishment. The pictures in their head of first school fight and first love,and of the broken heart that broke their son.

I will not be flying home for the funeral.

I can see Anil now, alive, curly hair blowing in the wind.

I see his white cricket uniform and his beautiful wide  smile.

I can hear him bellowing out his valued opinion, and has every ones attention.

I am sad for his parents that he never got the chance to leave a little one of him behind.

Maybe that was better, I dont know .

Life gives us no comp days . Anils parents and friends and family will be sure to see that as we all say goodbye. Anil may have understood that too, as he tried to give up alcohol and mend his shattered soul, and broken heart.

Where is the love of his life?  She is probably living her life, but Anil cant do that anymore .

I wish for me, and all my loved ones that in this sadness we promise to live  one day better for Anil, because he will never ever get the chance to even live a bad one again.

Goodbye, my friend….. Rest in Peace .