Posted: Sunday, March 14, 2010 8:21 am

If you've read my columns before you know I tend to keep things on the lighter side. I make fun of different things but try to do so in a light-hearted manner. While I rarely write much of a serious nature that doesn't mean that serious things don't happen in my life. I experience all the ups and downs that the rest of society does and never was that more evident than last week when I lost a very dear friend.

I first met this friend in 1993 through my parents. She was a real beauty. And not just the kind of beauty you see on the outside but on the inside as well. For the first 10 years I knew her, I only occasionally saw her but she did spend a lot of time with my parents. By that time I had my own family and was pretty busy with them. But around 2003 some things had happened and she had a falling out with my parents and needed a place to stay. I spoke with my wife and to my surprise she was very willing to take in this friend.

When she moved in with us, some of the beauty was gone but to me she was as beautiful as ever. When she showed up with a mark on her or looking like she needed a bath I never questioned her. She was doing the best she could with what she had. Every so often she would go in for a check up and I always willingly paid since she had no type of extended health coverage due to her age.

Over the course of the seven years she lived with us she went on family vacations with us, ran errands and chauffeured our kids around. In many ways she made our lives easier. I took many real and imagined trips with her. I never foresaw a time when she wouldn't be there for us or me for her.

But things started to go bad a couple of years ago. She pretty much let herself go. She rarely bathed. She began to develop different ailments that would come and go and even the specialists that saw her were sometimes baffled by her symptoms. The worst part was toward the end when she became incontinent and couldn't hold fluids for any length of time.

Although you can see the end coming you never know if it's the right time to say goodbye. You're stuck between feeling awkward about making someone lose hope if you say goodbye before their gone and missing the opportunity to say the things you need to say before they slip away. Unfortunately, I let the opportunity slip away and I suppose I'll always regret it.

Though she won't read this, I've written a poem to show how I feel about her. My apologies to Robert Frost:

"Two dealerships diverged on an asphalt road,

And sorry I could not shop both

And be a two car man, in my humble abode

And drove away in one, but not the other

Thanks to my father and my mother

Who upgraded to the Chevy Impala.

I shall be telling this with great regret

Much like my father and his 1981 Chevette.

Two dealerships diverged on an asphalt road, and I

I took my parents Lumina.

And that has made all the difference."

Chevrolet Lumina 1993-2010. 277, 989 miles. Eight baby vomit stains. Multi M&Ms ground into interior. Too many memories to count. Goodbye Blue Goose! I'll miss you and always love you!