Roddy

My Dad’s best friend died today. Well, he died Tuesday, November 10. He was alone, and they found him today.

It won’t be marked down as COVID, but he had COVID and it exacerbated a preexisting condition. It was COVID.

When each new person found out, they said, well… at least he got to see Trump lose last weekend.

And that’s true! The guy, Roddy, has posted on Facebook multiple times a day for the last five years decrying Trump’s racisms, evils, and idiocy.

And then, he was killed by the virus that Trump let ravage the country.

My Dad was trying so hard to keep it together. I know they talked multiple times a week, especially during football season. They’ve co-managed a fantasy football team for more than 20 years and spoke as recently as Sunday. And now he’s dead, suddenly!

Roddy immigrated to America from Ecuador when he was nine, and they met playing soccer. He lived with my parents for a little bit before I was born. Roddy always used to joke around with me. I don’t know too much about him, but I know he loved the Washington Redskins — sorry, Football Team — and I know my Dad is going to be hurting for a long time. I know they’ve talked about football and soccer for as long as anyone can remember, and now I’m crying because those are two of my Dad’s favorite things and he won’t be able to think about them without thinking about Roddy.

My Dad texted and called a few times this week, trying to figure out if they should start Ryan Tannehill or Drew Brees. Obviously they started Drew Brees, but he made that decision on his own because he never heard back.

And I guess now he’ll have to make a lot more of those decisions on his own.