I learned today a friend of mine passed away last Sunday. He was 70.
My friend, R. Initially, he was my girlfriend's father. Later, after my girlfriend became my ex-girlfriend, he and I remained friends. To me, he was also a mentor and role model. I learned carpentry skills from him. Before I met him, I couldn't hand-saw a board with a straight cut if my life depended on it. In helping me build rabbit cages, he taught me to never rush the cut. He also taught me not to expect perfection: "We're not building a church", he would tell me. As I reflect on him no longer being in this world, having passed into the next, I think of the valuable skills I developed in no small part due to the mentoring I received from him. Last summer, I built a new dining room table from reclaimed farm wood. Perhaps R is looking it over right now, ready to offer feedback.
Thirteen years ago, when I still lived in Minnesota, I recall when R and I were at my house while his wife and daughter were out shopping. He got a phone call, and the color rushed from his face. His brother was gone. I watched helplessly as he sat and attempted to process the news. I recall feeling like there was nothing I could say or do to help him feel better, so I simply sat silently, wondering if I was coming across as unfeeling because I offered no words of support. I think I understand now what R was feeling in that moment: The shocking reminder of our mortality, that our days in this existence are numbered. No eloquent phrase or sentiment was going overshadow that reminder.
Rest in peace, R. Thanks for the reminder to live in the moment.
