The Aerie
Did you know that these blog entries have categories? I don't have mine displayed, but yeah, you can place entries into categories. Today's entry, for example, goes into the "Obituary" category.
[I am now swearing ferociously under my breath]
I got a call tonight that my friend Joe Berglund is dead. Has been dead for a few days, actually. Right now I'm going through the ANGER phase. Right now I'm really, really wishing that there WAS a God, so that I could well and truly kick his ass from here til Tuesday. I am so angry.
The article in the Duluth News Tribune looks like so many others I've read, but of course this one was different. This victim was a friend.
HAYWARD
Wrenshall man in crash identified
The Minnesota man struck and killed as he stood near the scene of an earlier crash was identified Thursday as Joseph M. Burglund, 43, of Wrenshall.
The Sawyer County Sheriff's Department said the accident occurred after a vehicle went out of control approaching the scene of a two-vehicle crash.
A two-vehicle rear-end crash happened on state Highway 77 late Tuesday afternoon. Minutes later, Burgland was struck by a third vehicle as he stood on the side of the highway, investigators said.
The obituary comes closer of course.
"He loved the outdoors and enjoyed hiking, camping, canoeing, pig farming, and walks at night. He believed in taking care of the earth and using alternative energy. Joe was a great story and joke teller. He was a member of Elim Lutheran Church in Blackhoof Township. He is survived by his wife, Lisa; and children, Jacqueline and Jordan... He will also be greatly missed by his furry companions, Vander, Savannah, Barni, Tundra, Hermione, Hawk and Spur."
That's closer to the Joe I know. I can picture Joe laughing, making a completely unapologetic but self-depreciating joke about being a pig farmer. I can picture him surrounded by dogs on his farm. I can easly imagine him being a phenomenally loving father. I haven't seen Joe for a long time now, him being 'way up by Duluth, but he springs so easily to mind, relaxed and laughing.
Joe and I met in high school, or actually we probably met in eighth grade, right when I moved to St. Francis. This poor picture is the only shot of got of Joe and Steve together, in the play 'The Mousetrap.' ("Oh, that's a very nice shot of the back of my head, Bob" I can hear Joe saying, his voice bubbling with laughter, "My hair looks nice and greasy!") If Steve was the oldest friend I had in Minnesota, Joe was second or third. Now they're both dead. I think I met Joe in eighth grade, when he was going out with LaNae. Even though I was sweet on LaNae I could never feel badly toward Joe - he was too nice a guy.
Joe and I were in "The Mousetrap" together (I played Paravicini, badly I'm sure), and all of my best memories of theater club include Joe, laughing. In this better picture, he is being grilled by Russ, who played a detective. I remember little about that play except I wore a fake moustache, and we all had an absolute riot.
Some of my worst memories from theater club include Joe, too - for example, there was the time when I was working backstage and a falling piece of scenery sliced open my left thigh. Joe and Denise hustled me into Denise's Volkswagon Beetle, and Joe drove me the 20 miles to the Anoka hospital in about 10 minutes flat. When I passed out along the way I'm not sure if it was from bloodloss or sheer terror. Nineteen stitches and 25 years later, and the scariest part of the event was the trip to the hospital...
After performances in our little hick town (now a thriving suburb) the closest place to get a treat was the Farrell's on Highway 10, about 25 miles away. When the cast descended upon the shop, Joe and I used to compete eating Farrell's Lalapaloozas. But he threw in the towel for good after I finished my own and then polished his off for good measure.
He and I made a Super-8 movie once, it featured him running through the woods by my house, chased by an animated camera tripod that fired laser beams. Finally he killed it with his own laser, the beam scratched into the film in "post processing," and jumped up and down for joy.
I wish they'd give you a list of people you're going to lose, and the order in which you're going to lose them. I keep losing the people close to me without warning. While my father took three weeks to die, the first thing he did was lose consciousness. I had one week's warning before my birthfather died, but I was told by the family that his diagnosis had thrown everything into such turmoil that it wouldn't be a good time to call or visit - they didn't know of course that he only had one week. And when my mentor Mr. Johnson died, way back in 1988, there were six months during which I could have been informed, but wasn't. If my aunt hadn't seen his obit in the paper and recognized his school as my former high school, I might not even have made it to his memorial.
Steve, well, Steve died slow, and in some ways that was good as well as awful. It gave me a chance to accept what was happening, even as I denied it so terribly hard. I remember how we took him to see "House of 10,000 Corpses," and even though it was one of the worst films I've ever seen it was a good experience. I felt sad after recently seeing "Shaun of the Dead," because I knew just how much Steve would have enjoyed that movie.
But Death doesn't give notice, I guess, and now Joe is gone: gone at Christmastime, leaving behind two children and his wife. And like Steve, Joe was one of the good ones. Hapless, too - he once burned down a house he was halfway through building - but full of good humor, affable, and kind and considerate at the most surprising moments.
I'm sorry Joe. Sorry about your family, sorry about your friends, and sorry about your life cut short.
I guess I'm past the anger part now... I guess I'm onto grief...
Posted by Albatross at December 19, 2004 11:31 PM