Weep I must; I Can Do No Other!

What tales could be told of a friendship that has run unabated for nearly half a century? What is the nucleus of such a fraternal bond of love between two men? For when it comes to Tony, it is nothing less than this that is at issue. He was and will always be my main man.

Today I’m fresh from weeping all the more.

As Tony knew, the passing of his Father, who I also loved, so many years ago, saw me weep from the heart. And today I’m fresh from weeping all the more. So let me share just one story about my mighty friend for life.

When we had both barely hit our twenties, there was a brief few months when we worked together in a factory. For Tony, this was easy territory, where he was honing his natural engineering talent. For me, let’s just say, I hated everything about it.

Transportation to this job was on a borrowed motorbike, which truth be told, I could barely point in the right direction. So each morning I would make my way gingerly on this two wheeled beast to pick up Tony.

After breakfast had been provided by his Mum, (my second Mum), who had been doing that task, and so much more, for both of us, since we were lads. Tony would then take controls of the motorbike, with all the dexterity and mastery over machines, for which he is famed. And off we would roar through the English countryside; me, perched precariously on the back seat, and Tony gunning the thing, in full on motor bike racing mode.

On the day in question, everything had gone pretty much as it usually did until the morning tea break. The fifteen or so factory workers were then all assembled in the tearoom and things started to get ugly. These men unsurprisingly were outraged, because the afternoon prior, the IRA had killed Lord Mountbatten. The hostility was palpable; they were positively baying for Irish blood. And well, not to put too fine a point on it, I was the only Irish man in the room.

If Tony had your back, you could absolutely depend on it.

Tony’s reaction was instantaneous; he went for them, all of them, quite literally putting himself between me and my potential attackers. Now you would have to be crazy brave indeed, or maybe a bloody fool, to take Tony on when his hackles were up, and none were game to try. The situation was thus defused and past without further drama.

I don’t recall ever even discussing this incident again with Tony as the years went by. It was, without doubt, neither the first nor last time that he put himself on the line in defense of me. That is just who was. If Tony had your back, you could absolutely depend on it! And he had my back for life.

I’m not sure why this long-forgotten anecdote has come into my mind during this time of grief. Perhaps it is because it is so emblematic of the intense loyalty that Tony always displayed toward me. From time to time along the way, he would refer to me as more like a brother than a friend, and I hold that sentiment close in my heart.

I have heard it said that if you’re lucky in this life, you can count your true friends on one hand. I say when Tony was your friend you didn’t need to count any further.

So weep I must, I can do no other. Rest easy in the parallel universe old friend and I’ll see you there.

Love ya Ton.

Cormac