A little more than a mere face in the crowd

A guy I know died last weekend. He was only 58. According to the tale he was utterly riddled with cancer, and had no idea he was so ill. Maybe that was better. Who knows? We can't ask him about it.

I was somewhat shocked when I heard about his unanticipated death. That wasn’t because he was a close friend; he was more of a business acquaintance than anything else. But, he was a guy I’d known in the community for many years.

A few years ago he got involved in some behavior that was questionable (I’ll elaborate no more than that), and due to the ensuing scandal he was forced to resign in disgrace from assorted high-profile positions he held. None of what he did was really criminal, per se. Just stupid.

Anyway, he thoroughly cleaned up his act and in so doing was able to redeem his stature in the community. Good for him. I admire that a lot. He didn’t whine or bleat that he’d been treated unfairly. He was merely of the opinion “I fucked up. I guess it’s up to me to make it right.” And he did.

And then he died -- much too young.

That hardly seems fair.

Death is an odd thing, and we all deal with it differently. I read a good insight on somebody’s blog this morning, in which the writer said, referring to the death of her brother many years ago: “Time does not heal all wounds.”

It’s true. It doesn’t.

I also recall my late mother-in-law once saying after one of her siblings had died: “Every death of somebody close diminishes us just a little bit.” That’s true, too.

The people in our lives are part of us. We cannot help but be struck by the passing of somebody close. The lives of those who survive will never be quite the same after a major loss. And, as in the case I write about today, we are even diminished a little bit by lesser losses. Needless to say, any death of somebody we know also reminds us that such is our destiny, too.

When I was 38 one of my best friends from university died tragically in an accident. He was a terrific person; funny, smart, caring, devoted husband and father, a great guy to crack a beer with or go fishing with (both of which we did quite regularly), and all those virtues. And then he died. Took me a long time to get over that one, and I probably never truly have. I still think about him.

Yet, I think good thoughts, amusing thoughts and am grateful that he added something to the mosaic of my life. I’m grateful that his piece of the mosaic is fully intact still, even if he isn’t. Others I have known and who have now gone did the same. So, while my MIL’s thought that death diminishes us may be true, the lives of 'our' people increases us, so it’s all part of the balance.

Anyway, such are my thoughts this Thursday morning on “birth, death and the whole damn thing.”