Goodbye, Brian
Today, I said goodbye to a friend of mine.
Honestly, we weren't very close. In fact, we were just acquaintenances.
My son, Will, loves to ride up the hill a little, turn left into the cul de sac, and play with Brian's two sons, Nicholas and Jackson. There were many nights, the sun going down, 30-60 minutes left in my workday, that Will begged me to take him up to their house to play.
Sorry Will, I still have to work a while... then the sun's down, dinner is on the table.
Another missed opportunity.
Brian Dry, Nicholas and Jackson's dad, was an outgoing guy. When I first met him, he shook my hand firmly, looked me in the eye, and had a sly smile. I knew in a heartbeat that this guy was a salesman -- I later learned that he sold cars for a living. He even tried to get me to buy the car he had sitting in his driveway. From his Mom I think, clean, looked great. Good bargain.
He was also quick to tell me about about how crazy-good any Duke sports team was... and is. He was fit, skinny maybe, and had a sense of strength about him. A solid Southern guy, who would probably always say yes if you asked him to go fishing.
I was more than a little shocked a few days ago to hear that someone up the hill had passed away from a heart attack. It wasn't clear from the very sketchy emails I got from others on our HOA board where and to whom this happened. All the email said was "young guy, 39, heart attack, ambulances and fire trucks at 5 a.m."
This morning I found out who it was -- Brian.
And he wasn't 39, he was... 38.
His funeral today (announcement) was jammed. Deb and I saw family, friends, too many to count. The sermon was all about "one more day" and what everyday can hold. It can hold the announcement of a birth -- I never cried so hard than the day William came into our home, I couldn't drive my car and had to pull off the road! It can hold a wedding, a special getaway. Or, a sudden death.
Heart attack at age 38, with two young sons and a wife. I don't have words to express what's in my heart right now.
I'll miss you, Brian. What little time we had together was shared through our sons, and I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other a little better. Lesson learned.
Today is all the lifetime we have. Let's be thankful and live it that way.
Today, I said goodbye to a friend of mine.
Honestly, we weren't very close. In fact, we were just acquaintenances.
My son, Will, loves to ride up the hill a little, turn left into the cul de sac, and play with Brian's two sons, Nicholas and Jackson. There were many nights, the sun going down, 30-60 minutes left in my workday, that Will begged me to take him up to their house to play.
Sorry Will, I still have to work a while... then the sun's down, dinner is on the table.
Another missed opportunity.
Brian Dry, Nicholas and Jackson's dad, was an outgoing guy. When I first met him, he shook my hand firmly, looked me in the eye, and had a sly smile. I knew in a heartbeat that this guy was a salesman -- I later learned that he sold cars for a living. He even tried to get me to buy the car he had sitting in his driveway. From his Mom I think, clean, looked great. Good bargain.
He was also quick to tell me about about how crazy-good any Duke sports team was... and is. He was fit, skinny maybe, and had a sense of strength about him. A solid Southern guy, who would probably always say yes if you asked him to go fishing.
I was more than a little shocked a few days ago to hear that someone up the hill had passed away from a heart attack. It wasn't clear from the very sketchy emails I got from others on our HOA board where and to whom this happened. All the email said was "young guy, 39, heart attack, ambulances and fire trucks at 5 a.m."
This morning I found out who it was -- Brian.
And he wasn't 39, he was... 38.
His funeral today (announcement) was jammed. Deb and I saw family, friends, too many to count. The sermon was all about "one more day" and what everyday can hold. It can hold the announcement of a birth -- I never cried so hard than the day William came into our home, I couldn't drive my car and had to pull off the road! It can hold a wedding, a special getaway. Or, a sudden death.
Heart attack at age 38, with two young sons and a wife. I don't have words to express what's in my heart right now.
I'll miss you, Brian. What little time we had together was shared through our sons, and I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other a little better. Lesson learned.
Today is all the lifetime we have. Let's be thankful and live it that way.
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