Loss

Don't expect too much from me today. I'm mourning the loss of a friend. He died too early. I've never really accepted the news of what's been happening to him, much less that he is now permanently gone from our community. Bobby was diagnosed with a cancerous brain tumor eleven months ago. What? Say that again? Healthy, active, kind, generous, thoughtful, gentle, godly, sweet Bobby? You've got to be wrong. It can't be. There must be some mistake. You mean I won't be seeing him bicycling on Fredriksburg Road's steep hill anymore as his preferred means of travel to and from work? Nor will I catch a glimpse ever now and then of the barefooted man walking his dog down my street? I would know Bobby from anywhere with those short shorts, bare feet, bare chest, round glasses, curly hair all on a small frame strolling confidently beside his little terrier. I can't anymore go to the car dealership where he worked for 49 years and get his advice concerning car purchases nor send one of my three children or anyone else in need of an honest, caring, expert in the sticky and usually unpleasant business of car ownership? Now I can only tell them about this wonderful man whose office door was covered with Christian bumper stickers, but instead of being cheesy or slick, it was genuine and real? His grandson and his little brother to be born in January, more probably to come will get to know him through stories, pictures, family members that carry his qualities and characteristics passed down even to them as well and through a community that has known and loved their grandfather. But they will not get to enjoy the huge value of Grandpa throughout their lives? Really? And I have to pass the family home every time I leave and return to my house and be assaulted with memories, with sadness, with loss, with denial, with anger, shaking my head in disbelief, in the unfairness of it all? For how long?
Bobby gave my son his first job as a teenager. Years later, he advised him concerning a first car purchase. My youngest daughter and I sat in that little office when we bought her first car. And on and on it goes. Bobby went to my husband's Bible Study for almost 30 years on Wednesday mornings from its first location in the basement of Henne Hardware to various other places around town. He supported our children when they went overseas to do Missions work. Showing up on a Sunday morning here and there to support my husband in his church planting though he was a dedicated member and more of the Lutheran church, Bobby was a constant thread in our lives. He's gone? Are you sure? I just can't believe it...don't want to believe it. I am grateful for my beliefs assuring me that death is not final, that there has been a solution, an answer, a reversal of the mortal. Yes, I will see Bobby again and better yet, all his family will see him again and be together forever. But for some reason, this time, that just doesn't provide much comfort for me. If I can't believe he is gone, I am not comforted by the fact that I will see him again some day. I didn't see Bobby all that often, but I knew he was around. My husband went to pray with him often. They saw each other on Wednesday mornings. Over the last 11 months, they talked on the phone, texted, saw each other even more. They were friends. Our children went to school together. They saw each other today. I got to tell them how much we loved their dad, their husband, their brother. They knew. A firefighter stood under a tree playing Amazing Grace on his bagpipes, then a dozen dove were released into the sky over the beautiful little cemetery next to the old, white wooden church everyone is familiar with who has lived in our town for a long time. I've always wanted to go inside that little church, walk on those grounds. Today I got to. I think I'm rambling without much connection, but doesn't the loss of a friend cause disconnected thoughts, grasping at this and that, disbelief, lumps in the throat, distracting activities such as baking pumpkin muffins, anything really to deal with and process it all. In my lifetime, apart from my dear Papa, I have known 3 men who I describe as very sweet. You don't find too many men who carry that quality well. I love them. Bobby is one of those 3. I am grateful for you, Bobby. You will never be forgotten by our family. We will all talk about and remember you warmly and lovingly. I went to an estate sale recently where I saw an old car emblem from Becker Motor Company. I bought it. It sits now on an old dictionary on my desk. I guess that gesture lets me know that I really did see what was coming, for I wanted to have that emblem in my home as a constant reminder of you, of that sweet man who was so kind and supportive of my family, who lived out his faith so genuinely right to the very end. Save a place at the table for me, Bobby.