I heard the sad news just a few days ago: A good friend of mine had passed away.

It was a sudden death, which is better than lingering for all concerned. He was about to sit down for breakfast when he fell forward and was gone, just like that. He was 70.

My friend’s name was Denis Dunne. He was a first-class individual with a big heart and a love of all kinds of people. The last time I saw him wasn’t that long ago, at a local watering hole with his wife Penny. He was full of energy and Irish blarney. We laughed quite a bit and told a few lies to each other. Denny was a rugby player and a good one at that. He played on one of the better teams in the Chicago area. He tried to get me to play but I was playing old man’s hockey at the time, and with two young kids at home I thought my wife would probably like to have me spend some time with them. Denny and I still saw each other occasionally, and I always enjoyed our visits. But what I remember best about him is that he was a great neighbor.

Back in 1967, Chicago experienced one of the worst snowstorms in its history. In just a few days, we had more than two feet of snow, and combined with sub-zero temperatures, homes in our area started to experience damage from the deadly combination of ice and snow. As a matter of fact, many homes were literally destroyed as the frozen water started to burst pipes and leak into people’s homes. One of the ways to fight the leakage was to get up on ladders and chip away at the ice in the gutters. Denny and I would help each other out by chipping away first thing in the morning and late at night with all our winter gear on in the freezing weather. This went on for most of the winter, and Denis was always there to help. Later he and Penny and their daughters moved to the other side of town, and I lost contact with him for a couple of years.

Then one day he called me and asked me if I would enjoy meeting some of the players on the New Zealand rugby team, who were in town for a tournament. I told him I would enjoy meeting the players, and after work I met up with Denis and members of the team at a bar. We talked a lot and enjoyed some refreshment and after about two hours I asked members of the New Zealand team if they would like to go eat at a nearby Mexican restaurant. They thought that was a great idea, and we all took cabs there. We ordered pitchers of margaritas. Later, I looked over and saw some of the players drinking straight out of the pitchers. I wasn't sure what the outcome would be, but I had to get home, so I left Denis in charge of the party. It turned out OK, as nobody got hurt, or so I heard.

My relationship with Denis was of the kind that probably everyone has. You have some friends you don’t always see regularly, either because they have moved across country or across town or their lives changed in some way.

Once, you saw them every day. Now, every so often you think of them and give them a call, maybe meet them for lunch or coffee. You catch up, talk about old times and what you are doing now with your careers and families. Neither of you has to put on a show. No preliminaries are needed. It’s just you and the other person enjoying and trusting each other.

It’s called friendship.

All of what I just discussed extends to the spouses of your friends. I called Penny after I heard about Denny. I made sure she understood what an impact he had on my life. I told her I was available if she needed anything, and I told her I sent her my prayers and that I will miss Denny forever. Never be afraid to contact the surviving spouse after someone you know dies. Don’t hide behind the curtain of not knowing what to say. Grab the moment as soon as you hear and simply say what you feel. Tell the mate how much your friend meant to you.

You know, losing old friends can be equated with watching leaves fall off the trees in the fall. They drop to the ground one by one, quietly and gently, and then before you know it they are all gone. Life is so precious; don’t waste a moment of it! Tell your friends and family how much you care about them now. Not tomorrow or the next day, because they might never come.