Blog #705: A Last Conversation

Most of us have been rocked by the unexplainable
and have asked with a broken and questioning spirit…

“Why do bad things happen to good people?”

Three weeks ago, I was asking.

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This is a hard blog for me to write.

I will do my best to tell it in a soft way for you to read.

It was about 6:00 p.m. on a Wednesday night. I was sitting on the curb with my dogs.

My closest friend in the high-rise I live in in Southern California saw me as he was stretching before his jog. He walked over to talk. I had recently confided in him some challenges I was facing, and he came over to see how I was.

As we talked, he stood over me and rested his hand on my shoulder. Before he walked away, he said to me, “You are the strongest guy I know.”

I will never forget his words.

They would be the last words I would ever hear him speak.

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Eighteen hours later…

The dogs and I again headed outside.

One hundred yards up the bike path, there were a dozen emergency vehicles. Near the path, I saw a white sheet covering the ground. My first instinct was that another homeless person had died. Not wanting to feel the sad energy, the dogs did their business, and we headed inside without doing our morning walk.

Two hours later…

We returned outside, thinking the white sheet and vehicles would be gone and we could walk. However, the vehicles were still there. So was the body. I saw a few people from the building that I knew…crying.

This was not good.

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The dogs and I walked up the path.

It was a hugely sobering and sad moment to see the pain and tears of 15+ people who were nearby watching the coroners work. Seeing someone I knew well, I asked, “Is it one of our residents?”

Then the shocking news came.

It was my great friend lying there.

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At age 48…

And seemingly extra healthy and on top of the world, my friend had a heart attack and had collapsed on the path. He could not be resuscitated.

One of the kindest souls I had ever had the privilege of knowing was gone.

“Why him?!”

My heart silently screamed.

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Just two weeks prior…

My friend had been ultra-jazzed to attend an Affirmation of Life-type retreat in Colorado. I could not help but realize that horrible irony…now.

He was 48.
He was fit.
He exercised.
He was a huge animal lover.
He was the kindest man I’d ever met.

“Why did HE have to go?!”

A guy who offered others so much so unselfishly.

Gone.

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What comes after this life?

It’s not what I know.
It’s not what I write about.

But what I do know and what I do write about is that when life strikes us down with a monumentally tragic moment, the best way to move forward is to create something positive from the depths of the darkness.

A change in attitude.
A change in gratitude.
A change in action.
A change in purpose.

That’s what I’m doing.
It helps me move forward.

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As I end this week’s writing…

I sense strongly I will never forget my last conversation with my friend. I will feel his hand on my shoulder. I will remember the strength in his words.

I’m glad for that.

Because in remembering…

I’m going to remember to be more like him.

“Thank you, A…for the privilege of having been your friend.”

S.

(Audio version)