Last week was one of the most depressing weeks I had experienced in a long time.

I was already wrapped up in Terri Schiavo’s starving situation and Pope John Paul II’s deteriorating health and imminent death. Then the news of the death of Johnnie Cochran, the famous defense attorney who defended O.J. Simpson in the murder of his wife, was a sudden shock. But none of these really threw me like the death of my good friend Terrence Britt.

Britt usually called me on Friday mornings to ask me if I wanted him to prepare any boxes of yock-a-mein where he worked at Jay’s Chicken and Ribs on Pinner Street. He prepared the dish every Friday and Saturday. When I didn’t hear from him, I called him but didn’t get any answer. About an hour and a half later both my cell phone and home phone began to ring like crazy.

I returned two calls to learn that there was a possibility that Britt may be dead.

I had just talked to him the previous Friday and he was telling me that he was at the happiest point in his life.

I became acquainted with Britt about seven years ago through my niece, Charlene Banks. At that time I worked late many nights and ate out often at fast food restaurants. When I told Banks that I was tired of these restaurants and would like to be able to buy soul food without having to cook it, that’s when she told me about Britt and his soul food restaurant on East Washington Street. After patronizing him several times, he asked me to write an article on him and his business and I became his regular customer.

His favorite words to me would be, &uot;Just call me to let me know what you want and I will hook you up.&uot;

He said these very same words when he agreed to cater a birthday party for me at his restaurant in 2001. However, the story of his ownership of that business didn’t touch me like the one I wrote about him after his illness in 2003.

In that year Britt was hospitalized for about two months with diabetes.

He also lost a leg to that disease during that confinement. When I visited him in the hospital, he seemed a little depressed about the leg because he thought that he may not be able to work as a cook as he had previously done but after he was released, he bounced back with the hope that he could once more lead a normal life. His family is very close and supportive of each other and he praised his mother and sisters for coming to his apartment daily to help him return to normal living. I later did a story in 2004 featuring him after he completely recovered.

Britt has always kept me informed about his life as a cook and caterer, and his progress with one leg. When he received his new prosthetic leg and started driving for the first time, he called me. He was thrilled at how people didn’t know that he had an artificial leg unless he told them. He was also excited about his new job at Jay’s Chicken and Ribs, and his work as a cook with Cora Overton at T.E. Cooke-Overton Funeral Home.

On Sundays Britt attended church with Overton when he had a day off and was thrilled at the fact that recently he had permission to have all Sunday mornings off so that he could continue to do so. He gave his life to Christ three weeks ago.

Overton was also faithful to him in 2003 when he was sick. He told me at that time, &uot;Girl Cora is my friend and has helped me in many ways. If anything should happen to me, I don’t want anybody to have my body but T.E. Cooke Funeral Home.&uot;

Usually when someone dies we try to remember everything about them when they were alive. On July 10, 2004, I threw a birthday party for my son, Mark and invited Britt. Guests were amazed when they saw him fast dancing and later learned that he had a prosthetic leg. The party was taped and I am glad that I captured him during one of the happiest times in his short life.

I play this tape over and over for comfort now.

But Terrence, this I know:

Your death came too soon and was not suppose to happen this way,

Because you should have been around until you were very old and gray.

But your reputation as my good friend and your legacy as a famous cook will never never die,

So now I must bid you adieu and for the last time say good-bye.

Evelyn Wall is a regular columnist for the News-Herald. She

can be reached at 934-9615.