By: Anne-Marie Vidal

In December 2003, I received a crushing blow, the news of a death of friend, someone I had known and shared so much with over a 27 year span. I have only two other friends that I have known longer than that and they too mean the world to me.  But Dave was different. Dave and I shared a love of politics and had met at a rally protesting a cut in New York City services. We were arrested.  Although later released without charges, we had found the experience intimidating, but somehow got each other through it.  We became friends and it was a bond that grew and changed and endured through the decades.

Somehow I thought Dave with his soft brown eyes and fuzzy beard would always be there. He had been a constant in my life, loving, supportive and generous to a fault. We shared adventures and misadventures. When I became critically ill and almost died before my 32^nd birthday Dave’s face was the one I saw when I awoke from a delirium. He was like that, he was there for you.

Dave helped me get my first job in computers; he nursed me through broken hearts.  I did the same for him. Our friendship survived the fact that I introduced him to his first wife, a woman I never intended that he marry.  When he announced their engagement, I tried frantically to talk them both out of it saying, “It’s one thing to date, another to marry, and you have different goals.”  Although the bride stopped speaking to me before the wedding, Dave forgave me and I danced with him at the event to James Taylor’s “You’ve Got a Friend” and he said, “No matter, what I will always be there for you.” I told him I loved him. 

The marriage was a disaster that hurt Dave deeply. There were a lot of late night phone calls and I did a fair amount of listening, I testified at his annulment. 

Over the years I watched Dave display loving support when an old girl friend developed lupus, he was with her through kidney transplant, the subsequent failure, her years of dialysis and her eventual death. He inherited her slightly traumatized cats and took great care of them.

When I developed Cancer, Dave suggested we “get together.” I knew he was afraid for me and did not want me to die alone. I kidded him about the “ultimate sacrifice” and reminded him I loved him.  I was afraid of marrying him and losing a great friend.

Two years later I met Dennis who I did eventually marry, Dave rejoiced. Unfortunately he married in haste that year.  We kept in touch, letters and phone calls, although his wife was not enthused with my presence in his life. I was luckier; my husband was much more accepting of my relationship with Dave. 

When I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Dave read about the disorders. He did me the honor of reading every article I ever wrote and giving me support and criticism. He visited me once and we sat on a park bench talking, he told me that I had indeed married the right person and that he had not.  We discussed his pending divorce and I felt his pain and realized how much he had felt of mine over the years.

Friends like Dave are a rare and beautiful gift. Their kindness and generosity is straight from the heart and they ask very little in return. Dave was easy to love and easy to stay in touch with.  He understood chronic illness and the changes it puts you through.

His own health had changed a couple years ago. Dave developed parathyroid problems and type II Diabetes. For awhile, he put off the parathyroid surgery, when he did get it he felt better, he began a sensible program of diet and exercise. 

We kept in touch through instant messages and phone calls. I could see when he was on line through my buddy list window.  I suddenly noticed that he was uncharacteristically absent from the Internet during the third week in December.  I sent him and email and it bounced back. I was scared.  That afternoon, I had a message on my voice mail from his cousin.  I knew it was bad news.

Grief is turbulent and painful.  What I feel is not unlike the anger, rage and bargaining I went through in the first months after I learned that I had Fibromyalgia and CFIDS and that there was no agreed on treatment protocol.  Eventually I found my way to understanding how I could live with this disorder and eventually I will understand how I will go on without Dave. Do I have regrets? Yes, the same way I would have liked to have gone to the Rain Forest before these illnesses took their toll, I wish that I had not hesitated to tell Dave I loved him that last time we spoke.  We were on the phone; I wanted to say it before I hung up, but some convention that a married woman ought not to tell a single friend she loved him too often struck me. I missed the opportunity. Life is too short.

Dave Phillips died Dec.14, 2003 after being taken by ambulance to a Buffalo, NY area hospital. Doctors were trying to find the cause of his chest pain and shortness of breath when an aneurysm of the aorta ruptured. He is survived by his cousins Penny and Bill and their spouses and children whom he adored. 

He held a PhD in human Geography from SUNY, Buffalo and was employed as programmer there.  He was liked and respected by his colleagues. He was environmentalist, an amateur historian and strongly committed to social justice.  He leaves many bereft friends.

I’ve seen lonely days that I thought would never end,
…But I always thought I’d see you again…

----James Taylor,  Fire and Rain