It was my friend, my secretive friend from the San Fernando Valley. Sue is his wife. I’ve known him over 40 years, her around 35.
I don’t know all the details yet. She had an infection. It got out of hand. By the time she got to the hospital it was too late. She stopped breathing. Gone. Just like that.
I can’t imagine what the family is going through.
I met Sue not long after she began dating my friend. It was obvious he was getting the better end of that deal. She was the archetype California girl, blond, beautiful and understated. He was the rougher New Yorker trying to find his way in Hollywood.
I remember when she got me tickets to the show. “Tell them you’re supposed to sit D. I. F.,” she said. It was the page’s code for “down in front.” It worked.
She called me Geoffy. I’m not sure when it started. A nickname like that needs familiarity. It doesn’t come quickly.
The nickname pleased me, especially the way she said it.
Sue was full of goodness. If she held grudges I never saw them.
She was altruistic. Merriam-Webster defines that as “unselfish regard for or devotion to the welfare of others.” They might as well just put her picture there too.
I will miss her like crazy. It just doesn’t seem right that in an instant she was gone. It isn’t right.