It’s a rainy spring morning here and for some reason my mind conjured up memories of two people who have died. One man brings back fond memories, the other? Not so much.
Harry died 8 years ago at about this time of year. He had chosen to take a retirement package from our employer and spend his twilight years sailing around the world with his wife, Sue. Harry always gleamed when he talked of Sue. In his cubicle he had many pictures of them together, laughing, full-grinned smiles. He was always soft-spoken Even when the news he had to deliver was not pleasant, Harry was.
Harry had both his cruise tickets and his signed resignation letter on his desk when The Reaper called. Our entire office mourned the loss of Harry. He still comes up in “people-I-miss” conversations.
Frank (not his real name) passed away a few months ago. Frank was the father of one of my neighbors. I recall being 6 years old and riding over to my friend’s house after my brother and the neighbor boys. I was slower than they were and Frank met me at the end of his driveway, stopping my bicycle with his hand. He added, “You cry too much. I will not have a cry-baby at my house. Now you go away until you learn to stop crying.” Good advice? Perhaps. But his delivery, his tone stung me deeply. I had forgotten about that scene until I heard if his passing.
Life (and projects) can be challenging. But when it is all over, what we say and how we say leaves a lasting legacy.