I Do Not Envy You This Task.

When my dad was in his early 2o's he attended Dunwoody Institute. At that time it was a school that you earned a two year degree as a mechanical technician (mechanic). My dad had never enjoyed school, and while his other siblings went on to four year colleges, my dad wanted to do something where he would be able to work with his hands, something were he would not be stuck behind a desk day after day.
While attending Dunwoody he met a fellow student by the name of Jim. They were of like ages and temperament, and became good friends. After graduation they decided it would be an adventure to move out west, I don't know how Jim handled letting his family know he was moving, but my dad waited until my Grandmother (his mother) left for work one morning, then he loaded up his car and left for Colorado. He called her later that night to tell her he was moving. He didn't want there to be any chance of being talked out of his decision:) Jim and Tom (my dad), moved into Colorado Springs with little to their name, no jobs, no place to live, and no friends or family even close let alone in the state. They both got mechanic jobs, shared an apartment, and had adventures that for some reason I have never been allowed to hear.
Eventually, my dad moved back to the cities long enough to meet my mother, then my parents promptly moved back to Colorado, they moved into Jim's apartment until they could find a place of their own, and my dad began to work for Jim at his shop (mechanic shop). There is not one story that my parents tell from this period of their lives that does not include or refer to Jim in some way. He was my father's best friend for a huge, and important part of his life. About 8 years ago I finally got to meet Jim when we took a family trip out to Colorado Springs and it was like the two of them had not been separated for 20+ years.
My mom and I have been thinking about Jim lately because the time has come to make the phone call to Jim, and tell him that my father is stricken with a disease that has wasted his mind. That while my dad might remember him, there are no precise memories of him for my dad to recall. This horrible chore of calling this long time friend falls on my mother's shoulders and I do not envy her this. However, if I were in Jim's shoes, and a good friend of mine from my past was ill, I would want to know...before I got a funeral announcement.