TOMORROW'S NOT A GUARANTEE

So for the fourth time in just over a year I've had to accept the untimely death of a loved one and friend. While there is no real "good death" for us that remain behind as those we hold dear pass on, I must say, death increases the complexity of things when it's a friend your own age. Today I learned of the death of my friend Daryl Hunt.




I've known Daryl for several years, but it was the last one in which we became close. We met in 2005, at where else, an OU alumni event. And despite Houston's size, we managed to run into each other occasionally around town. But ironically enough, it was a small vacation back in Oklahoma last July where we really had a chance to sit down and talk. We hit it off and most of the separate 500 mile car trips home was done via cell phone with each other. I was about two hours ahead of him and I'll never forget his call telling me he was caught in a tornado and describing the semi in front of him being lifted off the road and neatly dropped on top of a hamburger marquee sign.





We ended up dating the rest of the summer, into fall, and early winter. I liked Daryl because he was so fricking laid back. My favorite time together was Friday nights. He worked two jobs like I did, and by Friday, we were both just plain tired. We usually grabbed take out, had a couple of drinks, and watched a movie...or talked. And we talked about nothing major or life altering. We talked about his last family reunion (the pictures he shared of his family were so wonderful! I thought his mom was his sister---his younger sister at that)! He talked to his mom often and cherished those visits. He told me about his daughter, her looking for a job, and getting hurt playing of all things, football! Man, he was proud of her! We talked about my family, the hard time my brother was going through, my mom's health, my dad's absence in my life. He'd tell me stories about his playing days as the first African American at Odessa, Permian, the championships at OU (#85 on right), the rigors of the NFL as an Oiler. Sometimes, he'd get so carried away he would reenact his favorite hits with me being the opposition!






We talked, or I should probably say argued, about music. He was into old school rock. Me---not so much. He LOVED music! He was always looking to download something new and he had bought books to teach himself how to play the base. He liked decorating his apartment and would bring things home and ask my opinion. He was making plans to buy a house that didn't have too big a yard because he "didn't want to do yard work."


Yard work would take away from golf time and that was Daryl's true love. His part-time job was at a country club. He had his tickets for the Masters in September. And it was never too early to discuss playing Palm Springs in February as part of a charity event. Everywhere you looked there were golf clubs. In the den, in the bedroom, in the closet. But my favorite? The set in the kitchen pantry! I never asked. I just accepted.


Although the romantic interest between us dwindled, we did keep in touch. I hadn't talked to him since school was out and had recently emailed him telling him we needed to get together and catch up. A mellow Friday night would be awesome. I never heard back and I can't help but think if I had, I would have been there when he had his heart attack.

I can see so clearly how it all happened: he brushed his teeth, took out his contacts, made sure the cell phones were by his bed, turned the radio onto timer, set the alarm, and laid down on those gold sheets that gave the room such a palatial air. He was asleep by eleven, twelve at the latest, and never woke up. Had he called back, maybe I could have been there and called 911. May he'd still be here and I wouldn't be talking in "What if's?"

The point is, at fifty-three he wasn't out to set the world on fire. He was just enjoying life, living day to day, making ordinary plans, doing what made him happy. The hardest part for me is thinking about just the little things he had planned and there was no question they would happen. It was all taken for granted.

My one wish for everyone is this: We are all so busy. We always say, "I need to give so-and-so a call," or "I really need to shoot him/her an email." What on earth are we waiting for? Make the call. Shoot the email. Are the petty squabbles worth the avoidance? Let someone know how you feel about them. If you're mad, tell them. If you love them, tell them. Who cares if the response is not what you anticipated? You only get one chance. Live each day to its fullest. No regrets. You've only got here and now.

R.I.P. Daryl Hunt. God got a good one today.