Around noon on October 3, 1988, I packed everything I owned in a U-Haul truck. And along with a poodle named Ross, I left Atlanta, GA for the city of Sacramento, CA. Before I left, I went by a friend's apartment to say farewell and to tell him that we should keep in touch. He wasn't home, so I didn't get to talk to him. I haven't seen or heard from him since. His name was Alan Smith. I've tried to locate him a few times over the years, but gave up because let's face it...Alan Smith is a very common name.
Alan was a troubled young man barely 20 years old when I met him...a friend of my younger brother more than mine. He had no job most of the time and his parents had kicked him out. Alan loved to party and had an infectious laugh. He had a girlfriend a couple of years younger than he and of course her parents were not approving of their relationship. My brother had asked if I would let Alan stay on the couch for a while until he could find a job, so I did. That lasted nearly a year before he was employed securely enough to afford his own apartment with his girlfriend right across from mine.
This morning about 3am, I woke up from a dream. Alan was in it and somewhere in the dream, he told me his full name was Alan Michael Smith. I probably knew that at some point 25 years ago, but could never remember it. I jumped online immediately and Googled him. His obituary picture looked exactly like I remembered him. He passed away this past April, apparently very suddenly, at the age of 45. From what I could read, it looks like he grew up over the years, had several children and grandchildren, and was very loved and respected.
So, I just wanted to share his story this morning. Even though our paths crossed only briefly, I remember him fondly and am thankful that our lives touched. I wish his family and friends peace and comfort.
