I was not surprised to hear that Greg dropped dead from a massive coronary at the age of 55 ; I was mainly surprised that it had not happened way sooner. When I first met him he was a college athlete on a full swimming scholarship, but in his middle years he had put on a massive amount of weight.
The last time I saw him, several years ago, he was enormous. We were at a BBQ and I have never seen any human being shovel in such a vast quantity of food so rapidly; he reminded me of a bilge pump in reverse. I guess my face betrayed what I was thinking because his wife, Christa, came over to me and shook her head. “That man is absolutely eating himself to death,” she said bitterly.
As large as Greg was, in his mind he was still a star swimmer and the pictures he kept in his office were all of his glory days at the pool. There were not even any current pictures on his Facebook page: the most recent was of him on the college swim team from 35 years ago.
Greg was not religious but his mother was, and out of deference to her Christa had a memorial Mass for her husband after the cremation. The Mass was officiated by Father Marcos who had never even met Greg. Father gathered some very basic biographical details from Christa and got the rest from Greg’s Facebook page.
I went to the service with Sue, another college friend. Sue and I met when we discovered that Greg was dating both of us simultaneously. It made for some grand drama at the time but now we each had a soft spot for him: Greg was the last man Sue dated before she became a lesbian and I was the last man Greg dated before he went back to being straight.
As we waited for the funeral Mass to start Sue, who is something of a card, was uncharacteristically quiet and we were both lost in thought, staring at the picture Christa had chosen for the altar: A smiling Greg circa 1982, sporting a Speedo and killer abs.
The Mass began and midway through Father started his eulogy “We come here not to mourn a death but to celebrate a life,” Father began and I sighed because when did funerals become celebrations? Can’t we just be sad?
“Husband, father, son and friend: Greg had a real appetite for life and lived large,” said Father, not noticing the sudden uncomfortable stirring in the church. Sue, who had been staring morosely at her feet suddenly snapped to attention. “He died large too,” she said softly. I ignored her.
“For Greg,” said Father, “life was a buffet and he wanted to sample it all.” There was a sharp intake of breath from the crowd but Father was oblivious. “He shouldn’t have gone back for thirds,” said Sue and I jabbed my elbow into her side.
Father segued into Greg’s love of the water. “A star swimmer in college, Greg loved the water,” said Father, “where his swimmer’s build served him so well….”
“Swimmer’s build?” said Sue. “Like an orca?”
“… and he especially loved the ocean, where he would happily float for hours.”
“It’s not like he could sink,” said Sue.
I couldn’t resist: “remember when they declared him a shipping hazard?” I whispered, and Sue snorted quietly.
People were starting to look at us so I cleared my throat, put on my sad face and stared at my hands. “For Greg,” said Father, “life was like a Grand Slam Breakfast.” Sue unsuccessfully tried to stifle a guffaw; unfortunately it came out sounding like she snorted.
“Two sons, two daughters, two grandchildren,” Father continued.
“Two eggs, two pancakes, two sausage patties,” Sue whispered in my ear and now we both threw back our heads and howled. I was laughing so hard that it hurt and we both had tears running down our cheeks. Christa, red-eyed, turned around to glare at us; thinking fast I cradled Sue in my arms. “There, there,” I said, “I know how you loved him.” Christa turned her back to us again but by now we were laughing out loud. Thankfully it sounded like sobs.
Clutching each other we made it out of the pew and out of the church. “She’ll be fine,” I kept saying, “she’s overcome by grief.”
On the church steps we collapsed, laughing helplessly for a long time. “Now what?” I said when I could breathe again. “We certainly can’t go back in there.”
“Breakfast at Denny’s?” said Sue.