Take Time to Smell the Roses & remembering George

I got home from work tonight, relatively early for me, before midnight. I have to get up early tomorrow to strip the wallpaper in my grandma's bathroom and ready it for painting, but of course I can't fall asleep yet. So I decided to weed through emails on Facebook and delete old ones and I came across the one my friend Alex sent me a year ago to tell me about our friend George's death, another one of the famous 'yoopers' that lived with me for over a year. I find it hard to believe that he's been gone a year already. It seems like yesterday I was driving to Alex's house in Gladstone, wondering how I was going to get through the funeral, since I don't do well with those at all.

For those of you who know me well, you know the story of the "yooper boarding house" that was my house. I have never met a more, well, lively bunch of people. They will forever be imprinted on my mind. I was living at the house on Cascade in RF and Derek had just moved out to move to the Cities. I was freaking because I didn't know how Chris and I were going to pay the rent by ourselves in that huge house and neither of us wanted to leave it, because like I said before, that house was magical to us. There was a group of guys from the U.P. staying at the motel next to Philander's and I had become pretty good friends with them since they were in Phil's every day. They wanted to get out of the motel to a cheaper place and I needed roommates, so the "yooper boarding house" was born. At first it was just 2 of them, but it soon grew to 5! Wow, me and a bunch of yoopers in one house. That was defintely interesting!! It honestly was one of the best times of my life.

The one I was the closest to and still am was Alex. When I first met him it was honestly like I had met my long lost brother that I had never met or knew existed. We clicked just like that. For once someone understood my loony sense of humor and my habit of wild spontaneity. He also saw me through some tough times, including love life crises and general shitty life, just like any good brother would do. I like to think I helped him through some tough times too, like missing his kids and his love life crises, like a good sister should do. I'm glad we're still friends to this day. We were at each other's throats a few times, but I guess that happens in every true 'family.'

The other 'yooper' I was the closest to was George. George was in his late 50s and was like a dad to me, a dad you could party with. But he always had good advice for me too, though God know I didn't always listen to him. Lord knows how he put up with living with a crazy party girl and 4 guys half his age. I always remember him drinking his beer and just shaking his head at all our shenanigans and telling us what idiots we were. You would have to know him to know what I mean. I know my friend Stacy and I ticked him off a few times when we would come home from the bars late at night and ring "that damn bell" that I had hanging by the front door. He would be so annoyed with us, but he still loved us anyway. George had a temper, but he was one of the kindest, sincere men I ever met. And I will never forget that god-awful "George coffee" that he would drink in the mornings on weekends. Coffee, Windsor and hazelnut creamer. He swore it cured just about anything. I think it just gave me a headache. But I would give anything to drink a cup of it right now--with him.

After the yooper boarding house came to an end, Alex and I moved into a house with Alex's then fiance and George moved into an apartment with Little George, another yooper, in RF. My beloved kitty Bootsy went with him since we couldn't have pets in our new house. Oh how George loved that cat. He spoiled him rotten and brushed him everyday and bought him the best food and treats. He always threatened to kidnap Boots and take him home to the U.P. Now I wish I would've let him, knowing how much joy that cat brought to him. He wasn't even that mad when Bootsy poked a hole in his air mattress with his incessant kneading of his claws.

Eventually George, Alex and I moved into a house together outside of Prescott. We didn't always get along, but those few months with them were some of the best. I was going through a rough period then, so I know I wasn't always the easiest to get along with. But I think George and Alex understood, because even when they moved out and I stayed there alone, we remained friends. One of the last times I saw George was when I brought them some mail that had come to my house.

Not long after, I moved to Wonewoc for a year, Mike's hometown. I saw George one more time on a visit home. I didn't get to talk to him long. If I would have known that was the last time I'd see him, I would have stayed there all weekend and soaked up his stories and words. We kept in contact regularly over the phone and he was a very good listener when I needed some advice. When I learned he had become sick with leukemia, I couldn't believe it. How had George gotten sick? He was one of the strongest, most stubborn people I had known. I talked to him a few times, and every time he said he was getting better, that the doctors at Mayo knew what they were doing, that he was tired, but was looking forward to going home to Sault Ste. Marie and spending time with his family and beloved dogs. But that wasn't to be.

He died last June and that fateful email came from Alex just when I returned home from a trip to St. Louis. Alex was wondering if I could make it up to the Soo for the funeral. I rearranged my work schedule and went the very next day. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. The 6 hour trip to Alex's house in Gladstone was one of the longest I've ever driven. Not because of the distance, but because of the feelings whirling through my head. I was so MAD at myself. WHY did I not go see George when he was going through treatment at Mayo? WHY did I believe him when he said he was going to be just fine and not to worry. WHY did I not take time out of my insane work schedule and go sit with him? I felt like the most selfish, horse's ass on the planet. All I could see in my head was a vision of him sitting in the white rocking chair on our porch laughing at all the stunts we would pull. And I knew I would never see him laugh like that again.

When I arrived in Gladstone, I had mixed feelings. It was great to see Alex again after almost a year and to be in the U.P. again, which I love and have many good memories of thanks to those guys. But the reason for my visit cast a somber tone over everything. Alex took it harder than I did, but George truly was a dad to him. Alex had lived with him away from home for years, day in day out, the good and the bad. It was hard to see my usually good-natured friend so sad.

I rode to the funeral with Alex and his friend Pat. The ride was full of reminiscing about George with many stories that I had never heard. I couldn't even talk most of the way, I was so overcome with guilt and sadness. Alex kept asking what was wrong with me, but I could barely answer. All I could think about was how I hadn't been there for George when he needed me. I know he had his family and many friends with him through his ordeal. But I should have been more present, as he always was for me.

Once we got to the funeral and sawy Little George, I could barely hold in my tears. I was reunited with one of my friends from the 'yooper boarding house' days, but it sucked that it was under these circumstances. When we walked into the visitation and I saw all the pictures of George, I had to go back out in the parking lot and collect myself. I am not good at funerals and this was no exception. It was actually almost worse. During the funeral Alex and George's daughters gave beautiful eulogies and I bawled all the way through. Then I bawled in the parking lot. After the funeral luncheon, George's family asked us to come to the house for a visit and I finally got to see George's home and his beloved dogs. And all I could do was sit there like a stone while his family told us how much we meant to him when he was living away from home in WI/MN. A big topic was George's obsession with Bootsy and how much comfort that little cat brought to George while he was away from home. The guilt was overwhelming.

On the way back to Gladstone, Alex kept asking me what was wrong. He said he was worried because he had never seen me so quiet and unresponsive. It was all I could do not to bawl my eyes out. Eventually I came out of it and we were able to have fun at a BBQ at Little George's house reminiscing abou the old days, some I was a part of, some I wasn't.

When I had to drive home the next day, that was literally the longest ride of my life. I cried buckets the entire way home. I was still so mad at myself that I finally had gotten around to seeing everyone again, but it took a funeral to do it. And it was too late to see George. He was gone, hopefully duck hunting in Heaven with his dogs, waiting for his family to join him someday. George, I miss you all the time and even though we only knew each other a short time, you made such an impact on me and I'm sad that I never told you. But I think you know. I know I had a wonderful grandfather who was a dad to me my whole life, but you also helped fill that void and I am forever grateful.

I guess the lesson I choose to take from this story is to never take anyone for granted because you never know when it will be too late. I still find myself getting obsessed with work and working too much with that always unreachable goal in the distance, that later I will do this, later I will do that. It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and I am working on spending time with those I love more often. I am doing better at it, but not good enough in my eyes. In my line of business it's hard to take weekends off, and that's when most of life's 'fun' events occur. So to those friends of mine that I don't get to see very often, please know that you are never far from my thoughts and that I love you so much, more than you will ever know. I am good at writing things, but not so good at saying them. I come across sometimes as prickly and sarcastic, but that is just my protective armor. I am truly a big sap inside.

Some good news (for me anyway) is that Alex is moving back here for awhile for work, so I'll get to see him more often. And my friend Chris is coming home from Japan this winter after many years, so again, I'll get to see him too. And tomorrow I will gladly strip wallpaper from my grandma's bathroom walls even though I will be tired as hell. But I will know that I did it and that it made her happy and that sometimes you have to take time to smell the roses, even when the train is moving so fast that getting off it seems impossible.

And George, even though your coffee really was horrid, save a cup for me. I think I will need it :)