The Phone Call
This morning the phone rang, I picked it up and a voice on the other end said is that you Arlene? it’s Jean H here, right away I had a premonition, and said, ‘you’re going to tell me some bad news aren’t you’ she said ‘yes’ Fergie died last night. I had a pang of sadness, I’ve known Fergie for over forty years, he and his wife were both from Edinburgh in Scotland, and as I also come from Scotland we struck up a friendship, We were in Dog Obedience Competition most of these years, but his wife Cath died sixteen years ago, and although he still had the dogs, he never competed again, though helped out at shows.
I’d phone him from time to time and we exchanged cards at Christmas, I noticed this Christmas when I received his card his signature was a bit shaky, and thought, I must give him a call, but as he was inclined to not let you go once he got you engaged in conversation, it was something I put off unless I had felt I could spare the best part of an hour.
But to my shame I just never got round to it, and now it’s too late, I feel bad about it, how could I have been so selfish. he was just short of his ninetieth birthday, so why shouldn’t an old man have the luxury of having a good chat on the phone with an old friend? How mean I was to deny him that.
So at the risk of sounding moralising , take note of this post, and make that phone call or send that note to someone who you know will appreciate it and it might just make their day, tomorrow might be too late, it was for me.
Thank you for visiting and please come back, Arlene, Tango and Ruby