Sodality
There’s a bench that sits above a mostly-dried up pond where Shell Ridge open space and the Diablo foothills convene. There are a few plaques on it with names and dates. And there’s a plan in place for many more plaques to join them. My dad’s running group has been running down the hill where the bench sits for over 40 years. Now, more of them walk down it than run down it.
In that time, these men have welcomed children, lost parents and spouses, separated from partners, sent kids to college, vetted potential spouses (I had the good sense to only ever bring my now-husband around them), endured illnesses, and watched their grandkids grow up. Through it all, they have gathered to celebrate, bear witness, offer support, be supported.
They placed the bench on this hill when the first of them died, and have since added two plaques to it as more of them have passed on. On Sunday, we gathered to add a third plaque to the bench to remember Bill, definitely the smartest man of the group and perhaps the kindest, as well. Bill had had dementia for over 15 years, and my dad and his friends modified their activities so that Bill could still accompany them as it progressed. When he started losing his sense of direction, someone would assign himself to Bill so that he wouldn’t get lost. As he lost his ability to run, the group would pick him up from his house and take him walking. When he couldn’t walk, they brought him along to coffee so he could still enjoy the coffeeshop banter. He was one of theirs, in running and beyond.
My dad and I arrived slightly early at the bench with a few of his friends and watched them decide how to place Bill’s plaque. One of the men pulled out his phone, and showed another a photo—a group of them had come to the bench with paper the size of the plaques to make sure that when they have all died, there will be room for everyone’s plaque on the bench. There was some banter back and forth about wanting to be the last plaque placed.
His widow, speaking to the group, referred to them as Bill’s sodality—a community or brotherhood. The 30 or so of them nodded in agreement, gave each other giant bear hugs, made plans for the next week’s runs and walks and fishing trips, and then packed up the boxes of coffee and donuts and continued on their runs and bike rides or hiked out the way they came.
