Funeral for a Friend…

Friedman and Mass children

No one ever said life would be fair, especially when a friend that you grew up with dies.

This blog post is sad on many levels. When I came back from Florida, I learned that one of my old friends had a stroke and is currently in assisted living barely able to function. Then today, I got a message on our answering machine that someone who I hold near and dear to my heart died.

This blog post is in memory of my friend, Philip Friedman.

Philip and his dog, Johnny

Philip was my oldest friend. My mother, Phyllis, and his mother, Diane, were best friends. I think secretly they wanted Philip and me to get married. Philip and I even dated a little when we were in High School. But, although I know Philip loved me and I loved him, he wasn’t interested in me on a romantic level and I always thought of him as a brother.

We grew up together

When we were four years old, we were at his home in Douglaston and he accidentally punched me. I still have the scar to prove it. He will always be a part of me.

L to R: My brother, me, Andrew and Philip

We later attended camp Mikan/Recro together. (I’m not sure if it was spelled that way but who cares now.) I went to the girls’ camp and he went to the boys’ camp. We would both sneak away and meet up to just talk about everything from the horrible latrines to the early morning freezing lake swims, where I just doggy paddled my way across the lake. I loved talking with him.

Philip was always there for me

Philip was always there for me. He attended my wedding. He attended my children’s religious rituals. And, he was there for me after my sister, Lori passed away.

I saw him twice after the passing of my sister. Once with his brother, Andrew, who I also adored. The three of us went out to dinner and just laughed the night away. Philip remembered everything and brought up different times with his mother, my mother, and my sister. He knew my family well.

The second time I saw him was when Andrew couldn’t meet us but had booked a restaurant in Roslyn. Brian, my husband, joined us. The three of us had such a nice dinner although we complained the whole night about how expensive the restaurant was. That was the last time I saw him. It was about six months ago.

My only regret

My only regret was that I didn’t know he was hurting and I wish I could have been there for him.

Goodbye, my old friend. I will certainly miss you!