The story of Bill

I recently had one of my wife's friends stay with us for a few days over the holidays. She's a colorful sort and a lot of fun to have around. My wife has been friends with here for about 10 years. They talk nearly every day. She's a pretty free spirit--always active and outgoing but never quite settled. Settled is, of course, over-rated at times.

A few years ago she had a "room mate" named, Bill. They dated a bit, but were not entirely compatible. However, the financial living arrangements made it difficult to go their separate ways. What I remember of Bill is all only from snatches of conversations I've heard from our friend. He had at least one son who was pretty much grown. Bill was divorced and had a hard time finding lasting direction in life. He seemed to flit from one occupation and/or scheme to the next. Never quite going busted, but never really doing well either.

Bill liked to drink and I guess drink a lot. While it didn't happen often sometimes Bill would just disappear for weeks. Friends and family would worry sick and eventually he'd show up somewhere.

Our friend did finally manage to get out on her own. Bill wasn't getting any better and it just wasn't healthy to watch someone you had been living with for years self-destruct.

Bill seemed to drop out of conversation for a long time. But he would pop in stories now and then. On one particular occassion, Bill showed up out of the blue at a bar that our friend happened to be in. He was functionally drunk and happy. He had on a fabulous hand woven scarf that he had made himself. At one point in time Bill thought he'd loom good for a living. After spending hundreds on materials and a loom and self teaching himself to weave he created exactly one scarf. It was red plaid with yellow and black patterns. It wasn't perfect but I would have never guessed it was hand made. When she admired the scarf on him, Bill, who was feeling nostalgic and giving to his old room mate, he immediately gave it over to her to keep.

This year, Bill died much too early. Poor self care, drinking and a number of other bad habits catch up with you eventually. Bill really didn't have anything material to speak of. What he did have went to his son. But now when I see that scarf on my friend... I can't get out of my mind that this may be the only lasting thing on this Earth of Bill. Perhaps the only thing lasting that I will encounter anyway.

I never met Bill. I have only stories. But now when I see my friend wearing the beautiful scarf Bill made I'm sorry he is gone. I wonder what will happen to the scarf as the years pass. I'm sure my friend will keep it and someday many years from now it will be unpacked by someone going through her things. They'll unwrap it and admire its bright colors and think about why this (hopefully very old) woman kept it. They won't know the story of Bill and she won't be around to tell them. But you'll know.

I think I will ponder the things that I may leave behind. I would like all of my friends and family to have something of me to remember and perhaps tell a story about.