As I sat with Josh today in Instacare, he is feeling like sandpaper throat and can't sleep, I suddenly remembered Ralph DiPrizito, my old friend from High School.
He was lots of fun, but sort of a troubled soul. Artistic, sensitive, active in Student Body activities. He had a gay uncle, and I always suspected Ralph of being in the closet himself. Mom was Jewish, Dad was Italian.
The last time I saw him, he came to my house limping, using a cane. He was recovering from knee surgery and was extremely angry with me. I had not "been there" for him in his opinion. I was confused and angry myself. What did he mean? What was I supposed to do? I didn't get it at all.
Now, 40 years later, I realized what a crappy friend I had been to him. He was right. I didn't go to visit him, I didn't call him during his hospital stay. I was insensitive to his needs. In my defense, I didn't know that one did those things for friends. Poor social skills training...
If I could find Ralph and appologise to him, I would. Perhaps, wherever he is right now, he feels a mending in "the Force" and knows that I am sorry.
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