Deathbed

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes open foggily and a nurse is at my side. She’s manipulating a tube that’s going into my arm. Something drips out of a bag that hangs up and to the right of where I lay in my hospital bed.

“Hi, Mr. Henrion. Are you doing okay? Any pain?”

“No, I’m okay.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I can’t remember a time when my eyelids felt so heavy. A few more flashes of light enter from the sterile surroundings, but then I fade into darkness once again. Semi-conscious, half navigating my old mind through thoughts and memories, half going along for the ride as my body fights to stay alive. I’m on my deathbed, I think to myself. Some people don’t get to have a deathbed. They just drop dead from a heart attack or get killed suddenly in a car accident. I guess I’m lucky. Maybe?

“When I’m on my deathbed…” It’s an expression I’ve heard and used throughout my life. Statements of declaration that will be made. Regrets that will be shared. Wrongs that will be righted. Memories that will be cherished. Well, here I am. On my deathbed.

Life was always about the people. I had that revelation in ninth grade when one day I randomly thought about high school eventually coming to an end and how much I would miss eating lunch every single day with the friends I had grown up with and known my whole life. This theory was proven to be true at every stop on the journey of my life. The people are what matter. But which people? Who is spinning through my head in what could be my final moments occupying this body here on Earth?

Cali

Oh, my sweet Cali. The love of my life. My wife of however many years by now. Someone who has seen me at my best and worst. How does one put into words a lifelong companion, best friend, spouse, confidante, and soulmate? The odds of us ever meeting in this world were slim to none. Me, a small town boy from the rural Upper Peninsula of Michigan; her, a girl from the Phoenix metro area surrounded by family and sunshine with no obvious reason to ever leave.

I had seen her at the gym a few times and, one day, worked up enough gumption to ask her out. We went out to dinner a few nights later, and after I dropped her off at home, I texted my mom and told her I had just met the one.

Cali uprooted her life, left her family, and moved across the country with me multiple times. Through injuries, illness, job changes, promotions, family struggles, and so much more, Cali stood by my side no matter how much it pained her or how much she had to sacrifice. There are so many things I would do differently, all of them related to the fact that Cali just deserved better than what I was able to provide.

Mom and Dad

I won the lottery by having Mom and Dad for parents. There was never any question that they were both going to do what was best for the family. My childhood home was full of love and happiness, and was just incredibly stable.

Mom used to always read books to me when I was a kid, and I loved it. She even recorded herself reading books so that I could always hear her voice on tape and follow along if she wasn’t around. Imagine having a mother who is that sweet and cares about her kids that much. You can’t help but succeed in life with that kind of example at home.

Dad was the embodiment of a great dad, something he didn’t get to have as a kid growing up in Detroit. Somehow Dad took that experience and decided to live the example for my two sisters and me. Dad took us on vacations all over the country, coached our sports, did fun stuff out at camp, never drank, and loved us wholeheartedly.

Kristin

My oldest sister Kristin never said a mean or unkind word to me in my entire life, and that’s really saying something considering I was her annoying little brother. She fed me saltine crackers and water when I got drunk off three beers for the first time at her college apartment. Kristin cried when I left for the Navy even though I was not going to be in imminent danger at any point. “Attack” as we called each other, always let me tag along with her and her friends. A perfect older sister who just wanted the best for everybody.

Stacy

I always wanted to impress and get the approval of my middle sister Stacy who was a true free spirit with an iron will. Being afraid to challenge the status quo and be strategically disruptive was not something anyone would ever associate with Stacy. Her intellectual pursuits got me obsessed with reading books. Stacy challenged me on many things, and it all made me better. Some of it was painful at the time, but it was all worth it in the long run.

Grandma and Grandpa

My mom’s parents were the only grandma and grandpa I ever knew, and they were two of the best people I ever knew. Grandpa was my hero in so many ways, having survived World War II and then becoming a small town legend with nearly forty years in the local school system as a teacher, coach, principal, and superintendent. It was always weird to hear stories from my friends’ parents about how much of a hard-ass and disciplinarian Grandpa was during his school days. To me, he was just sweet and gentle Grandpa who always had Werther’s candies in his pocket. Grandma was always in the background, playing the organ at church, cooking delicious meals, raising kids and grandkids, and demanding nobody ever, “make a fuss,” over her. Truly two of the sweetest people to have ever lived.

Hammer

My buddy Hammer. The closest thing to a brother I ever had growing up. We did everything together and spent endless summers connected at the hip, working, playing, riding bikes of all kinds, sleeping on the shag carpet in his parents’ basement, golfing, swimming, and everything else kids do when school is out and the sunny days are long and abundant. Hammer’s parents were my second parents, and his brother Luke felt like my own protective big brother. After college, I didn’t get to see or spend nearly enough time with Hammer. Life took over and time flew by, marching us both towards the end at an alarming rate. He built an amazing family and career, and I admired his accomplishments from afar. Luke, Hammer, and I maintained a lively group chat where we constantly shared memories from the big town and other nonsense. It was one of my favorite things ever.

Poike

My first friend in life. Poike and I spent countless hours together watching wrestling, playing Madden, obsessing over sports, laughing about his dad’s frustration with the Detroit Lions, riding bikes all over town, drinking, laughing, and sharing thoughts about the world. One night during adulthood, fate had placed Poike and I back home in Norway at the same time, so we went to Mr. Mom’s for one beer. Needless to say, one turned into about six, and we drank the night away just catching up and enjoying the safe haven of our small hometown. It’s one of my favorite memories with Poike. I love his whole family too. In many ways, they had a huge role in raising me. On the landing halfway down my basement stairs, I have a framed picture of Poike and me at Wrigley Field in 1994. We were both ten years old, and my dad took us to the friendly confines that we watched all summer long on WGN. In that picture, we’re frozen in time as happy kids on the trip of a lifetime. Poike made a career out of teaching and coaching, and I have no doubt he changed the lives of many just by being himself.

JimBah

JimBah and I first bonded playing for the VFW Little League team back in Norway. We could joke and laugh and lean on each other when our coach got pissed off at us and made us run laps around the ball field at Marion Park. There’s no question that Bah was a tough kid who knew how to bring it when it came to any sport he played, but there was always a sweet and gentle side to his overall demeanor that always put me at ease. It was evident early on in our friendship that I could share anything with him, and that he would have my back. One of the greatest honors of my life was getting to be JimBah’s best man at his wedding. When I stood up to give my speech at the reception, I could barely get through a sentence without choking up. I wish I had done better for Bah and his beautiful bride, but I was just overcome with emotion thinking about a lifetime of poignant memories with my friend.

Tony

My buddy Tony is still the best athlete I’ve ever personally known. He could run for touchdowns, dunk a basketball, high jump the school record, hit and throw a baseball, pull himself up to sit on the soccer goal crossbar during lulls in play, and so much more. One time, when we were probably 19 or 20, a bunch of us were playing in the legendary Gold Medals basketball tournament in Hermansville, Michigan. This annual event is an institution in that area and worth checking out if you ever get the chance. Our team was playing some older and rough grown adult men from that area and, predictably, the game got very physical. After one battle for a rebound, some guy stunned me with an elbow to the back of the head. It hadn’t even fully registered what had happened, but when I turned around, Tony was already challenging the guy by getting in his face and shoving him in the chest. My dad and Tony’s mom were in the crowd. They’re two of the last people in the world who would want to see a fight, much less one that involved their kids, but when I got home that night, my dad told me that in the middle of the fracas, he looked at Tony’s mom and said, “Just watching out for each other. Same as always.” I get goosebumps just thinking about that. A friend like that who has your back is a damn precious thing.

Simky

Like the other members of my close group of childhood friends, I can’t remember a time in life when I didn’t know Simky. Just as sports-obsessed as the rest of my crew of pals, Simky was a Little League rival and our football quarterback going all the way back to seventh grade. At the start of each season, we new Simky was the guy at the helm to call the plays and lead the charge for our offense. He married Stacie B., one of the sweetest girls from our high school graduating class. She was another great friend from my formative years of middle school and high school. The gatherings of friends at her house were some of the first boy-girl parties for a lot of us. I treasure those memories of so many good friends having innocent fun out on Bal Road.

Big John

I graduated high school in spring of 2002 and left for Northern Michigan University that August. Wanting to branch out from the comforts of living with people I already knew from Norway, I signed up to be assigned a random roommate by the school. I was just getting some stuff into my dorm room on that first move-in Thursday, when I saw this huge, powerful-looking dude in cargo shorts, a Yale (Michigan) High School t-shirt, and number 69 “Drinking Team” visor sauntering down the hallway. “Are you Mark?!” he called to me. The rest, as they say, is history. Big John shaped my college years as much as anyone, and I cannot recall one dull moment in all the time we have spent together. Driving 30 hours to Key West over Christmas break just to drunkenly wander around town speculating on whether or not John’s Jeep would survive the journey back to Michigan is something I will cherish forever.

Big John was like the central glue of our group of NMU friends. Bob, Alicia, Alyssa, Igor, and many others experienced amazing life adventures because of Big John’s pull.

Igor

I met Igor right around the same time I met Big John back in the fall of 2002, and my definition of the word “selfless” was never the same. Igor is always thinking about and doing things for other people with no regard for the cost and inconvenience to his own life. He’s coached youth hockey, and won significant championships, for decades, through cancer and chemo and job changes and other life stresses, giving up his nights, weekends, and free time to be there for kids in and around Rockford, Illinois. Igor makes the world a better place every single day. For decades, whenever I saw a text from Igor come through, I knew it would be something that would put a smile on my face.

Liz K.

I can’t think back on college without thinking about Liz. She brought the party everywhere she went, and excluding anyone from the festivities would never have crossed her mind. Nothing could be a small, chill event if Liz was involved. It had to be bigger, louder, more well-attended. Liz’s Halloween costume had to be large enough that it barely fit in the back of my Blazer with the seats folded down and colorful enough that it brought the NMU football game crowd to its feet when she walked in front of everyone on the way to her seat. One time, Liz and I got to sit in the NMU Presidential box during a hockey game. Before the first period was halfway over, Liz had the college president shouting out the infamous, “See ya, bitch!” chant that accompanied a penalty call on the opposing team. Every moment with Liz was fun and exhausting. Truly one of the best human beings I have ever met.

Mr. Eads

A few months after finishing my undergraduate degree at Northern Michigan University in May 2007, I packed up my Chevy Blazer and moved to Phoenix, Arizona. The Valley of the Sun, a place where I knew I wouldn’t have to shovel snow or scrape ice off my car’s windshield. It was a world away from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and the culture shock was real. Mr. Eads was my unofficial mentor at a time in my life when I often felt lost and in need of guidance. There was nothing I couldn’t tell Mr. Eads about work, life, relationships, and religion. He was my guiding hand when I was far from home and in a state of total culture shock. Mr. Eads passed away far too young, but I still remember the things he taught me and wish I could text him during the annual Michigan-Ohio State football game.

Kevin

When I met Kevin at the L.A. Fitness racquetball courts out in Arizona, I was 23 and he was 50. We were evenly matched players and slowly developed a friendship, meeting to play racquetball three to four days per week and sharing stories about life in between games. Without trying, Kevin could take just about any topic and offer some wild take, theory, or opinion that would make me laugh hysterically. As time went by and I gained life experience, I realized that Kevin was spot on 99% of the time. Kevin is one of the people I truly missed when I moved away from Arizona. We kept in touch a bit over the years, but certainly not enough.

Austin and Byrd

I’m putting these two Navy buddies together because we’ve all been on a text group chat for decades. Austin was the first person I met at my duty station who seemed normal. He got me out of my shell and made me feel like I had a friend I could trust in South Carolina in a new and strange environment. Byrd Man taught me to be more compassionate and understanding of what the students in the Navy nuclear training pipeline are going through on a daily basis. He always kept things in perspective and made others around him better.

Soma

I met Soma when he showed up to our division at the Navy Nuclear Power School in 2011. After listening to him talk for a few minutes, I detected a northern Midwest accent and knew he was one of my people. Soma was ten years older than me, and I admired the hell out of him. He was ex-Army, unflappable, unpretentious, hilarious, and just a sweetheart of a guy. Losing touch with Soma after the Navy is something I regret, but life went on. We both moved, got new jobs, and built lives for ourselves in different parts of the country. For someone I lost touch with, I sure thought about him a lot over the years.

Liz and Peter B.

Oh, Liz and Peter. In my first year out of the Navy and working for the NRC, I would’ve been utterly lost without these two. That year required an insane amount of travel that was tough on my marriage and mental and physical health. I was constantly plagued with self-doubt and concerns about whether or not I was doing the right thing in life. Perhaps the only saving grace that year was that Peter and I got to hang out at the office and Liz was usually present when I had to go out to a power plant in New Jersey for training. If Liz and Peter hadn’t been kind, funny, real people that I could trust, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have made it through that year. I connected with both of them immediately, and it saved me during a very tenuous period in my life. Liz and Peter built a life and a family together and remained cherished and lifelong friends.

Eric

I met Eric because of dogs. Cali and I moved to Pennsylvania in 2015 without knowing a soul and having never spent any time in the northeast United States. We were fortunate to find a beautiful neighborhood where we could walk our trusty dog, Zeus, the namesake of this blog. Eric would frequently come out of his house to love on Zeus and dispense treats. As time went by, Cali and I got to know Eric well until, all of a sudden, we were all very close friends. Eric is a generous, sweetheart of a guy who could always be counted on for help. He was always up for some fun and able to quote Seinfeld with the best of them. I’m lucky to have had a friend like him.

Christian

Sometimes you don’t even know when a person is going to walk into your life and just change everything. Christian first showed up in my life in September 2022, and things were never the same again. When we first met, there was a bit of a feeling out process as we both questioned whether or not we had really met another person capable of entertaining some absolutely crazy thoughts and notions about all kinds of topics, and then being able to laugh and joke about all of it. After knowing Christian for a couple years, I realized that most people who met him followed a similar pattern. First, they would think he was nuts. Then they’d realize that he’s hilarious. And then they would love the guy and want to interact with him and be around him at every opportunity. Christian was a true original in every sense of the phrase. He enriched my life in ways he may never truly understand, and I am so grateful for our time together.