My friend, Wayne Keenan, died on Friday, August 31, 2018. He was around 71 years of age and suffered from heart problems and diabetes. He was a single, white male and had red hair (his nickname was 'red'). He received a general discharge from the U.S. Army and held many jobs up until the age of 33 (approximate), when his application for disability insurance with U.S. Social Security was approved on psychological grounds. Wayne had mental problems and I'm not sure of the source of those problems, but I know he had a rough upbringing and youth in West Orange, NJ. After the deaths of his grandparents, who had raised him, Wayne lived in orphanages and it was in one of these that he was tied to a bed and raped by older boys. Wayne never knew who his father was and his mother was unable to care for him, though Wayne remained friendly toward his mother.
I first met Wayne in 1970, maybe it was '71, when I was 15 years old. We met at Romeo's Pizzeria in Orange, a local teen hangout. Wayne was a delivery driver for Romeo's. We became close through the years owing to various shared adventures with the DeMarchi boys, whose family owned Romeo's.
Around the age of 34, Wayne moved into a subsidized apartment in a senior building on Oakwood Avenue in Orange. Here he lived the rest of his life, though he was always trying to move into other senior buildings, especially down the shore. Wayne liked to fish, especially deep-sea fishing. He had lots of fishing equipment. He had a dream of living near the ocean and fishing every day.
In his cluttered apartment, Wayne and I had many meetings. We would have discussions about all sorts of things; local politics, religion, philosophy, fishing, girls, the end of the world, God, Kierkegaard, love, enmity among residents in his building. We also watched TV. We'd often eat out at the local Burger King or once in a while at IHOP. Wayne bought many things from Home Shopping Club and often would call me to come over and set up this or that gadget and explain how to work it.
Wayne Keenan was a big source of encouragement and fellow-feeling for me. I always felt comfortable in his presence.
On that Friday, my phone rang around 7pm, but I was already asleep and didn't answer. The next morning, I got the recorded message from Wayne's dialysis center to please call them. I could not get through to them that day nor the next and of course, I called Wayne's apartment, but he didn't answer the phone. I left a message for him. I called two local hospitals to find out whether Wayne Keenan was a patient - "no he wasn't." I reached the dialysis center on Monday by phone and they offered me condolences on the death of my friend, Wayne. They explained what happened on Friday, that Wayne's heart stopped and they did everything to try to revive him, but were unsuccessful. The Fire Department was there, also emergency medical technicians. They told me Wayne's body was in the morgue at East Orange General Hospital.
I cried several times between getting the news of Wayne's passing and going to the hospital morgue. I called my Mom and told her the news and she said she was so sorry for me. I waited a long time in the hospital lobby for someone to take me to the morgue. A nurse supervisor arrived and conducted me there. At the morgue door, a security officer had me sign a paper and we all went in. The body was in bag on a gurney. I unzipped it and saw Wayne - his body anyway. His eyes were open and in his mouth was the emergency breathing tube for administering oxygen. I clasped his hands and said some prayers. I looked around at the other gurneys with their occupied body-bags. I looked at the two people standing near and said thank-you and we left. This was how it ended for Wayne and me.
I apologize for beginning this post with a picture. There's something inherently wrong with pictures, a deception of the viewer that goes unnoticed. This particular picture of Jesus is very popular, having been seen and recognized by many people in Christendom since it was painted by