My Friend Charles

Greetings:

Well, more than a friend.  A best friend - not a "bestie" in the modern sense.  You see, Charles Raymond Isaacs, Jr.  was a "brother" in the older sense.  A very close friend, hunter, Viet Nam Vet, Marine, sharp shooter, avid-gun owner and willing to help anyone learn to shoot or re-load ammo, play golf (well, hack around the course) or just hang out. Helluva guy!  He was a rock to his wife, his children, his relatives and all of his friends. When anyone had a problem they called Charles.  (He had a nephew named "Charlie" and his dad was called "Chuck" so you didn't call him either of those names.)

Anyway, my friend died last night, 5 Feb 2018.  About two weeks ago while working on his rent house (that he kept in beautiful shape) he looked up and to the left and his neck "popped" and he felt extreme pain; much like I feel most every day but far worse. We had a short chat with him last Monday (29 Jan 2018) on our way home from the funeral services for my mom.  (Step-mom but we called her "Grandmother" most of the time.) Charles stood up, well, shakily because of the pain killers and muscle relaxers that he was taking at the time, and we chatted briefly because he was still in a lot of pain.  We were there for all of five minutes and then we left and went back to Fort Worth.

This past Sunday we got a call from Ashley Diane (his daughter) that he had gone to the hospital with pneumonia a few days earlier and they were having trouble determining what was the problem with the neck pain AND the pneumonia - or something like that.  From over here, all we could do was pray; after all, Charles was in excellent health and something like a neck cramp and pneumonia was not going to get to a Jar Head like him! 

But it did.  Ashley called us yesterday (Monday) afternoon and told us that Charles was on a respirator and no longer had any brain activity.  Again, all we could do was pray.  We waited all night and today she called about noon and gave us the word that late last night they had taken him off the ventilator and the drugs.  He passed away about ten minutes later; peacefully, without pain. 

Because he had been a Viet Nam Marine Vet, the local Vets came in and gave him a Red-White and Blue escort.  They draped his body with an American flag and walked him out of the hospital while the nurses and attendants stood at attention with their hands on their hearts (in respect for the flag) and anyone in uniform saluted.  Quite moving I understand.  And he deserved it.  He was a "real" Viet Nam Vet, not a drug store Vet like so many you hear about.  Later I will update this blog with his dates of service and decorations. 

So, to end this blog:  My Best Friend is gone.  I am going to really miss that big boy.  All 6'2", 220 pounds of him.  Now I have only my blood brother, my wife and my other friend in Pittsburgh.  I might have to move.  Or maybe one of those other two will move to Fort Worth.  Maybe...  Who knows?