Thank You, Sid: A Journey of Friendship and Farewell

Daniel Dashko '28

The room was silent. I wasn’t ready to step in. I feared facing the truth of this moment and seeing someone so close to death. Suddenly, all of the memories came rushing back. Sid has been my friend ever since I first started volunteering at the Hill more than a year ago. Every day I would arrive around 9:00 and I would see him eating breakfast or watching TV. It gave me a sense of reliability, seeing him there every time. After I finished delivering all of the mail, I would go right to the living room, where Sid and I played Gin Rummy, his favorite card game. I had no idea how to play, but he was always kind and willing to help. Whenever I lost, he would say that he cheated, which I thought was a joke, but I now realize it was to make me feel better.  

As we played, Sid would ask me questions about myself. He asked about school, sports, my siblings, and even why I was there. But, no matter what, every time he asked the same question, “Do you play golf?” I remembered that one day I asked him how long he played golf for, and why he was so passionate about it. He told me he was a champion at his club, and competed in many tournaments. Sid proceeded to invite me to his room where I saw a wide array of plaques and trophies hanging on all the walls. Sid explained every one to me and how he got it, from when he was still a kid to when he grew older. 

Sid sparked a bit of an interest towards golf for me. I had never been to a real golf course, but I hoped one day maybe he could have taken me and shown me the basics on how to play. I realized at this moment would never come, and more memories raced through my head.  

 As he was wrapping up, he stopped abruptly as he asked me enthusiastically, “Do you want to learn how to putt?” I excitedly replied, “Of course!” and he pulled out a tiny machine for practicing putting that spun around and had angled slopes. Sid had to use a walker to get around, but with a golf club, he had impeccable balance. Remarkably, Sid was able to make it in on his first attempt! I stepped a little bit closer to the machine than Sid when it was my turn. I tried numerous times but was unable to make it. He meticulously showed me exactly how to hold the club, how hard to hit it, and where to aim to not hit the slope. Through his patience and careful instruction, I learned a valuable life skill, as well as multiplied my miniature golfing abilities.  

A nurse passed by me, she was going to check if Sid was comfortable. I was still standing by his room, my eyes filled with tears and a heavy feeling in my chest. I had so many questions, but most of them revolved around why. Why was this happening to Sid? Why can’t we fix it? I had no answers. As I pondered, my memory of the last time I came to the Hill started to play. 

It had just been last Tuesday morning when I walked in, ready to volunteer and have fun, but something was off. After I had checked in and completed all of the deliveries, I realized I hadn’t seen Sid. “Strange,” I thought. “He’s usually out by now.” I worryingly treaded to Sid’s room, with no clue of what to expect. I cracked the door open, and saw that he was sleeping on the couch, hooked up to an oxygen machine. Sid’s wife invited me in and explained that he was a little sick, and that he was going to the doctor later today. My heart sank to see him weak and sick, but I assured myself it was just a sickness that was going around and he had been hit hard by it. Though, the whole day, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more, something much worse.  

I snapped back to the present moment, took a deep breath and stepped in. He didn’t look like the Sid I knew. He could barely move, his breathing was scattered, and he couldn’t talk. I was scared, scared for what would happen to him, scared that I would never see him again. Even though it felt impossible, I knew I had to say goodbye, even if I didn’t want to believe it. Suddenly, I noticed he wasn’t breathing. I rushed outside to tell my mom, a doctor. She came and checked his pulse. “Don’t worry, he’s still with us. He’s having periods of apnea,” she said, trying to calm me down. As if he just came up for air from underwater he started breathing again heavily, and then calmed. 

 I built up enough courage and now felt it was the time to say my last words to Sid. When I came close to him he held my hand as best he could. I held his hand, but it was cold; I tried to hold back my tears but it was impossible. I gently leaned forward and said, “Thank you, Sid. Thank you for always being my friend. Thank you for teaching me about cards and golf. And thank you for all the joy you brought me through our time together.” I hugged him in tears as I said goodbye for the last time.  

The rest of the day was hard. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sid; all of the memories flooded my mind, and the thought that I would never see him again was unbearable. The next morning I learned that he had passed away peacefully, in his sleep. Instead of feeling anger and sadness, I felt thankful that I was able to be with Sid throughout his last days, and hopefully bring him joy by playing cards and talking to him. I was so grateful that I was able to see him one last time and truly thank him for his presence in my life and the difference that he made. Sid will always be the kind, funny, enthusiastic, card player and golf champion in my heart and I will always cherish the moments we shared.