I am at a loss for words. I am overcome with emotion and yet have found no viable outlet. My family is changed forever, and yet we must go on with daily life and continue to function. I am left feeling raw and this post is very real. Read at your own risk.
On Thursday, July 3rd my father's best friend George died in a motorcycle accident. He was 64 years old and is survived by three children, many friends, and the Lewis family. He and my father grew up together in Miami, Oklahoma and were childhood friends. They remained in contact throughout the years but George did not become a daily staple in our lives until he moved to Dallas seven years ago. He taught Middle School and High School Social Studies in Oklahoma and New Mexico until he was eligible for retirement and then moved to Dallas and began teaching in DISD.
Once he moved, he and my father were inseparable. In fact, odds are if you came to my house anytime in the last seven years, you would not only have met my parents, but you also would have met George. He ate dinner with my family almost every night, he helped my dad mow the lawn, he helped my brother and I move multiple times, he came to our graduations, he attended our family holidays, and our families vacationed together. He was not only welcome in my family, he was a part of my family. In the month plus that I have lived in Dallas, I had only eaten at home with my parents once when George wasn't there. Now, when we eat I cannot help feeling a void.
It is alarming how quickly your life can change forever. I still have not begun to wrap my head around it but I am certain it is the little things I will miss the most. George was one of the kindest, gentlest people I had the pleasure of knowing. He would have done anything for my family but beyond that, he would have done anything to help a stranger. He loved my father with a deep friendship that I aspire to mimic in my own relationships. My brother and I used to joke that my parents were not "empty nesters" because they had George. He thought it was funny and it was by no means an insult. My mom prepared meals for him but my parents by no means took care of him. He was very independent but enjoyed my parents company and they enjoyed his. To both my parents, he was a companion and by no means a charity case. He (like everyone) had idiosyncrasies, but I may miss his quirks most of all. George could not stand silence. Ever. He would talk when he had something to say but if there was a silence, he would talk just to fill it. This took some getting used to in my family, who (for the most part) only speaks when we have something significant to say (I portray this characteristic least of all, but I can assure you the remainder of my family (barring my half-sister and sometimes myself) is quite introspective and cautious with their speech). He was insanely liberal with his salad dressing and his salt and we went through both at about three times the normal rate. He would always have a pool of salad dressing at the bottom of his bowl (enough for another salad) and yet never realized he should pour less. I used to joke with my parents about putting the dressing in his salad for him to insure he used the right amount but they never did. My parents always figured, if he wanted to drench his salad, he had every right. Who were we to judge. Now, I only wish he were still here to waste salad dressing. George, you were deeply loved and will be deeply missed.
As I sat down to write this post, I didn't know where to begin. Something about putting it on "paper" makes it seem so final... but the truth is it is final either way. I also was struck by the fact that I have not had to write a post like this before. I have lost three grandparents and a great aunt that I was close to in my lifetime, but none of which since I have been blogging. I was blessed by knowing that no one I am close to has died in the last three years, but I also know that this will not be my last post about loss, which is one of the scariest thoughts of all. Knowing that death is a part of life does not make dealing with it any easier. But death is meant to give us a since of urgency. We are not to take anything for granted, after all we are only promised today. I hate mourning but every time I mourn I am reminded to live life to the fullest. It is fleeting and goes by in an instant. I so desperately want to live a life that ends with "well done my good and faithful servant." I am in the process of grieving a dear friend but am thankful for the reminder of the fragility of life and to keep first things first.
So please, pray for George's family (his three children are Gary, Greg and Melanie and they are all in their 30's), my family and George's friends but most of all, don't take your own life for granted.
