Goodbyes

I don't frequently say the word "Goodbye." With family and friends I usually say "talk to you later" and to sources on the phone usually "have a nice day." I lost a friend and a mentor yesterday. Bruce Beck was as good as they come. Up front and honest, he always gave me guidance when I needed it and stood up for me when I needed that. I'll never forget when a co-worker was yelling at me over something very small, berating me for not knowing something he had never told me. Bruce's indignation stood out to me. He always had the most stories for the week and the most sneezes in a row out of everyone I've known. The way he spoke about Tanya was inspiring. I felt like I knew her even before we ever met. Then after he welcomed me to his church family, I could see why he spoke so well of her.

Whenever I lose someone, I suppose it is a natural thing to think about others I've lost. Sources I've written about and cried for. Friends that have gone before. My dad Steve was the first person I lost. I wish I could say that I had some memories of him, but I have only vague and foggy impressions. I've been blessed to have my dad David to raise me. Two great fathers in a lifetime are more than any girl could ask for. I do treasure the stories my aunts, uncles, grandparents and mom have passed to me about him though. I like feeling as if I knew him.

The first person I have clear memories of losing was my friend Raul in Brazil. I don't remember the date he died, but I remember we used to have a kind of game that we wouldn't say "goodbye." Always we'd say "ate mas" (or "see you later.") The last time I saw him waving and shouting "ate mas" over my shoulder, he said, "goodbye." I always wondered if he somehow knew that in two short weeks he would leave the world.

And there was Mark. It has been about a year and a half, but it still hurts to think about losing one of the best guy friends I have ever had. Probably the most honorable I'll ever meet. This life thing is so weird. It is like the constant art of battling loss and of course the joys in there too.

Goodbye, Bruce. And to all those others who have gone before. We love and miss you and hope to encounter you one day again.