And I'll Be Missing You
One of my dad's best friends passed away recently and, as cliche as it is, it really made me realize how short life is.
He was a good man, one of the best. Everyone considered him to be their best friend, but Don considered everyone to be his. He was the kind of man who never spoke of himself, he would rather spend time listening to others. He had a regular seat at every person's home, at several restaurants and a few other places where he was welcomed with a cheer. He had a deep belly laugh that was infectious, and a great bear hug that could make you feel as though you were a toddler again, being picked up by a man who loved you more than he loved himself.
Even when he was sick with cancer, and facing the fear of death, he still wanted to spend more time with his friends and family than in the hospital improving his condition. Though his body was giving way, and the recovery process was torturing him, his eyes still smiled and his happiness still infiltrated the room.
Now I have been left to wonder, if I were to pass away, far too young as our dear Big Don, who will I leave behind to remember me? And how? I have reached out to those I care about, those who I have lost touch with, and even someone who I was willing to lose. Since Big Don's death I have come to learn that people come in and out of my life, and at times I have willingly cast people away and at times I have been the one trying to hold on. But perhaps if I were more like Big Don, listening more and judging less, I would leave behind a legacy of people who knew me as a caring, dedicated and loyal person.
We all love to talk about ourselves, share our world with others and constantly relive our 15 minutes of fame. But as a reporter I have learned to sit back and listen, repeat the things people believe are important and share other people's stories with the world instead of telling my own. Though this new life and career choice is rewarding, and people refer to me as such a good, sweet person, I have also fallen out of people's lives. People who I dearly care for have moved on without me, and yet I know all the steps they are taking in their lives and all the adventures they are embarking upon. But what do they know of me? All summer I have ached knowing that I am traveling my life path alone, without someone to tell my story, and no one to listen.
But should it matter? There were so many aspects of Big Don's life that no one person knew him entirely. And he will always be remembered as the sweetest man, the one who always listened.
So perhaps if I keep listening more, I may be forgotten for the rest of my life, but afterward I will be remembered.
He was a good man, one of the best. Everyone considered him to be their best friend, but Don considered everyone to be his. He was the kind of man who never spoke of himself, he would rather spend time listening to others. He had a regular seat at every person's home, at several restaurants and a few other places where he was welcomed with a cheer. He had a deep belly laugh that was infectious, and a great bear hug that could make you feel as though you were a toddler again, being picked up by a man who loved you more than he loved himself.
Even when he was sick with cancer, and facing the fear of death, he still wanted to spend more time with his friends and family than in the hospital improving his condition. Though his body was giving way, and the recovery process was torturing him, his eyes still smiled and his happiness still infiltrated the room.
Now I have been left to wonder, if I were to pass away, far too young as our dear Big Don, who will I leave behind to remember me? And how? I have reached out to those I care about, those who I have lost touch with, and even someone who I was willing to lose. Since Big Don's death I have come to learn that people come in and out of my life, and at times I have willingly cast people away and at times I have been the one trying to hold on. But perhaps if I were more like Big Don, listening more and judging less, I would leave behind a legacy of people who knew me as a caring, dedicated and loyal person.
We all love to talk about ourselves, share our world with others and constantly relive our 15 minutes of fame. But as a reporter I have learned to sit back and listen, repeat the things people believe are important and share other people's stories with the world instead of telling my own. Though this new life and career choice is rewarding, and people refer to me as such a good, sweet person, I have also fallen out of people's lives. People who I dearly care for have moved on without me, and yet I know all the steps they are taking in their lives and all the adventures they are embarking upon. But what do they know of me? All summer I have ached knowing that I am traveling my life path alone, without someone to tell my story, and no one to listen.
But should it matter? There were so many aspects of Big Don's life that no one person knew him entirely. And he will always be remembered as the sweetest man, the one who always listened.
So perhaps if I keep listening more, I may be forgotten for the rest of my life, but afterward I will be remembered.
posted by Elaina Rusk at 12:39 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home