Plain Dealer columnist Michael Heaton remembers everyone’s buddy Bill Kennedy

Have I given up? Hell no. Have I accepted my fate? Absolutely.

I had a colleague ask if I ever wanted to go to Paris, London, Utica, N.Y., or some other exotic locale before I died, and I mentioned to my good friend that if I didn’t want to go 20 years ago, why on earth would I waste my time when I have so little of it left?

My wife, Meg, and I decided the perfect vacation for us (and yes, I say “us” because she was truly my angel on earth for these last few weeks) would be a week on a desolate beach, 100 feet from the Atlantic Ocean with our golden retriever, Jazzy, in tow. That would be perfect.

North Topsail Island, N.C. was our perfect exotic locale. Off-season in April on a beach that looks like it would hold thousands, only a mere smattering of beach-goers could be found, with football fields or more between each blanket.

And these were the weekends, the busy times. During the week, we often had to use binoculars to see if we were sharing our sand with anyone. No one could blame the weather. It was sunny and warm with light winds the entire time, and for early season, a true blessing.

But mostly, it was quiet, our time to spend together without our grown children. A vacation that truly gave us time to say our goodbyes. After all, that’s why we were going, wasn’t it? Neither of us had to say it. Sure, there were tears. They were expected and deep-felt and necessary. But then there were smiles, the touches, the walks picking shells. And while we have many shells from other beachfronts, these will have much more significance because they will always have a date attached.

Even Jazzy made contributions, a piece of well-rounded asphalt that came from deep beneath the Atlantic about 40 miles out, we were told by a perennial vacationer. A piece of nylon rope, probably from a shrimp boat, also found its was into the Tupperware bucket. No way I would convince her it wasn’t a rock. Into the bucket it went.

It was a week made up of a million moments. Nothing we haven’t said or done for each other before, but this time the teenlike “I love you” written in the sand just took on a bigger meaning, as did the ensuing hug. All the seemingly stupid gestures we did so many times before all of a sudden came so much more important.

Sure, we found some fine and fun eateries, and the food was always extra good, even better because I happen to being sharing it with the woman I have loved for the past 17 years.