April 16, 2009
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He’s Gone
Last night my wife and I received a dreadful call. A man that was the best of men, that lived a God-fearing, compassion filled life, that my wife and I loved dearly, that recently married, and started a family with the woman whom he described as the girl of his dreams, died yesterday, April 16th. He’s gone. I can’t believe it. He was only 33. My wife and I listened to his sobbing, shocked wife tell us that he was standing at a restaurant when he simply dropped to the floor. Two paramedics were actually dining at the next table over. What should have been a stroke of fortune was meaningless. They could not revive him.
I’ve got to pull it together. Writing this helps. I have a lot to do before the plane flight north. I’m sick from weeks of bronchitis and other illness, and so is my wife. We’re a sorry pair right now.
If you knew him, you loved him. It was that simple. At 6ft 4, trim, muscular, and bald he looked a lot like Jason Stathom the actor. When he shook your hand it was only for a second, and then he’d reach out to hug you. Don’t get me wrong. The guy was tough as nails, and firm as the Earth we stand on when it came to matters of God and family. But he had a way of making you laugh, a way of calming a person, and a life that was lived without anger or fear toward anyone or anything. He never lectured or assumed any air of authority on anything. When he had an opinion, he offered it kindly and well thought out. That’s just one of the reasons his opinions always meant something to me, why I would find myself thinking about things he said for days after he said it.
This guy had a very difficult life from age 1 to age 33, but that’s not the way he saw it. He changed everything I thought I knew about how to live a meaningful life. I am the better for having known him, in the most meaningful sense of the phrase.
Last night I had a dream that shook me to the core and was painful in the extreme when I woke up just a few hours ago, but somehow it was oddly comforting. My wife, he and I were taking one of our late afternoon weekend walks beside the river just as the snow was melting and spring was rumbling deeply in the forest waters we walked beside. “You can’t blame God bro!” he said with a concerned and sincere look. “We had it good! You guys got your marriage back, I got the family I had always dreamed about, and we had some great fun together! I’ll see you again, I promise.”
As usual, he’s right in every way.
Someone good, a young and energetic man, a bright way of light and a rock to all those who knew him, is gone from the world. But his glowing afterimage, his contagious optimistic enthusiasm, will live on in anyone who remembers him.
Comments (3)
Mike i am saddened by your content and cheered by your testimony to your friend. i would hope someone will write of me in that way. we are not getting together despite numerous promises to do so. we will have to try harder. by the way your description of your friend is consistent with Marfan’s Syndrome. look it up. bob
@rfloydlewis - I know. I’m sorry Bob. I’m really frustrating to myself that way. Thanks for the reply and I’m going to look up that syndrome. Suzanne and I are packing this evening with heavy hearts to head to Spokane.
I am very sorry for your loss. It sounds like this world has lost a great person.