All good things must...

“Your presence edified.  Your

contribution missed.”

– Anonymous

I lost a friend and companion this weekend.

I really don’t want to talk about it, but at my age, I have learned that it is good for the soul to express sorrow…it is a cleansing thing.

My companion and I met some twenty or more years ago. In the beginning, it took time to sort how best to interact. I suppose that's the case in any relationship. Before long, however, we found a place. It was effortless to work with her…the relationship professional all the way.

I was clear with Molly from the beginning that the girl and I would be seeing a lot of each other. As it turns out Molly was all right with it, although she made comments from time to time about the continual relationship. I argued that the girl matured over the years, and although like all of us got a little long in the tooth and worn, she was consistent as the day is long.

We began traveling together on short hops and expanded to longer trips. We have logged more than two million miles together. Oh, I had opportunities to travel with more attractive colleagues, in fact, it happened a few times. But in the end, I always came back to her.

The great thing about it is that she never once complained…not a jealous bone in her body. Whenever I tired of the others, she was there – no fair-weather friend she. Her presence was comforting. The rhythm we developed, the nuances of her body…all of it – every single bit felt right.

Now, however, it's time to say good-bye. The breakup began on a trip to Europe this past week. Like most things to which one is committed I did not see it coming. I mean, we shared a comfort that I felt would go on forever.

We had just checked in at the Aalborg Airport when the accident happened. It seemed odd because we had done the exact same thing hundreds of time. My young friend, Andreas, was helping me by taking her arm and giving it a tug. Bang! It broke.

In an instant, I knew it would never be the same again. I was even concerned I would not be able to get her home. There is nothing worse than an unexpected accident when one is tens of thousands of miles away – and yet, there it was…she was, broken…not just in arm, but in spirit. Hers and mine.

We still had a long way to go. From Aalborg to London, a small hotel room together, before the final leg home to Tucson. We both knew it would be our last. I left her in the room and went for a walk that misty morning on the streets near Heathrow airport. I had already begun to mourn, for I knew it would never be the same.

Molly was waiting for us when we arrived after this trip. While she shared my sorrow, I could tell it was not to the same depth.

I took my time with her at the house, going gently through the routine we had so often done. It would be the last time, the damage permanent.

I know there will be another day, but damn, I am going to miss that suitcase!

- ted