The Factories of Night

I’m finally starting to get back to normal after my unexpected trip to California. I left on a red-eye on Tuesday (which unfortunately was Shannon’s birthday) and returned on Saturday (which was my birthday), so I got to spend 3 1/2 days with my friend Debbie after she learned on Monday of her partner Alan’s sudden and unexpected death.

I was friends with Alan for about 30 years, though it took me a long time to know him well, because he was very inwardly focused. Despite how much we loved each other, I'm not sure I *did* know him well, not as well as I would have liked. When I would get together with Debbie and Alan, he usually let Debbie and me monopolize the conversation, but he was deeply engaged and never hesitated to contribute a well-turned phrase, a funny comment, or an insightful observation. I don’t think he was introverted so much as contemplative, almost like a monk. That isn’t a great comparison, but monks are similarly quiet without necessarily being introverted. Alan thought and felt deeply.

He diligently meditated every day, a practice I always respected and envied. I don’t have that kind of self-discipline! Writing was another regular part of his routine. He had a temper and trauma-related reactiveness, and he worked extremely hard to overcome and manage them, and meditation and writing were both parts of that work. Debbie says that some people were afraid of him because of his temper, but I never felt that at all. Not in the slightest! He startled me once or twice when he reacted to something that had startled *him*, but I always felt how gentle he was in his heart, how easily hurt and frightened, and I felt that we were very much the same. I felt a deep and sheltering warmth from him, a love that made me feel safer when he was around. His hugs were extraordinary.

There was something about Alan that reminded me of my dad. It’s difficult to describe. Alan wasn’t parental toward me at all, but he and my dad gave off a similar vibe. They shared a quietness, a vulnerability, a gentleness, a passion for music, and a mischievous sense of humor. I loved those things about both of them. And they both loved *me*, and never hesitated to show it.

The last 20 years or so that I lived in California, I often spent time at Debbie and Alan’s house, and I even lived with them for a short while. They fed me many delicious meals, and Alan’s homemade sourdough bread was one of my favorite foods in the world. We often relaxed in their living room or dining room together, just talking companionably as good friends do. Deb and Alan organized our wedding celebration picnic when Shannon and I got married. They were a huge part of my life, two of my closest friends. Alan was *family* to me.

He died on a flight to Ireland, on his way to participate in a poker tournament. Poker was one of his great passions. He was a man of deep passions: music, bread-making, poker, and personal growth. It may seem odd to describe someone as having a passion for personal growth, but I think Alan did. He always seemed to be working toward being a better version of himself. This trip to Ireland was apparently the first time he’d ever initiated and organized international travel entirely independently, so I think it’s fitting that he was growing and pushing his own boundaries up until the very end.

Alan was only 67 years old when he died, and he needn’t have died so young, but he took better care of his spiritual and emotional self than he did of his body. He had some health conditions that he wasn’t managing as well as he could have, and that probably contributed to his death, though the coroners in Ireland haven’t yet issued an official cause of death.

I didn’t often get to spend time alone with Alan, and I usually saw him when I got together with him and Debbie together. Talking with Debbie these past few days, I realized that was because Alan didn’t often initiate social interactions, even though he loved them. I wish I’d initiated time with him more often, but I didn’t want to bother him, which now seems silly. The times when I did spend time with Alan without Debbie present were rare but precious, which is why I was so much looking forward to getting to stay with him in Las Vegas for a couple days this coming May. It hurts that we won’t get to have that time.

Alan’s death leaves an empty space in my life, in my heart. He was a wonderful person, and I’ll miss him terribly. I’m glad I got to spend some time with Debbie this past week so we could mourn together.