My phone was acting up. For whatever the reason, text messages weren’t ringing through. When I finally looked, there was a link from my wife: a funeral home obituary page for a friend of mine.

Fuck.

I hadn’t seen him in a few years, but during those random encounters about town there was a rare and profound joy. Uncontrollable smiles and vigorous hugs. We were friends from Aikido practice; our wives were friends from dance. We knew them separately before we knew they were married. During one of my last black belt tests, he was my uke. He and his wife helped prepare a Filipino meal for the dojo to celebrate that event. The lumpia were amazing.

I don’t know what happened. At least one comment on the memorial page stated he left on his own terms. He was maybe five years older than me. And now I’m hearing about this six days later.

And to you? He never existed at all – at least not until I brought him to life for you, only to kill him again, to tell you now how he haunts me.

Another post on that page stated, in essence, “May his spirit find rest.” Is that up to him, do you suppose, or is that up to us?