Goodbye Friend

Today was unfolding like so many others. Then I received the phone call.

"Roy, R is dead," he said.

"Do you mean R from church?"

"Yes. No one had seen him for days so I went to his house to check on him. He was siting in his chair, dead."

I felt a chill as the horrible scene was described, then compassion for the caller who would suffer the memory of his discovery for weeks to come, then gratitude that a mutual friend had called me to gently deliver the news of R's passing, then sadness at our loss. Many other feelings followed. I expect even more will come.

I made phone calls of my own, in turn. Better to hear this from a friend than from some uncaring acquaintance just eager to be the first to pass along bad news.

R had been a friend and a fellow member of our Fellowship. I first met him two years ago. He had shared his story with us willingly, telling it with tears and laughter, describing both the ugly selfishness that sometimes filled his heart and the love that replaced it when he asked God to guide his thoughts and actions.

R shared often about his relationship with God. Sometimes he would suddenly proclaim to anyone who happened to be within earshot, "Our God is an awesome God!"

R often seemed filled with joy and enthusiasm, but just as often with sadness and depression. He was a study in contrasts, driven at times by boundless happiness and at others by unrelenting pain, both physical and emotional.

Pain had come to dominate his spirits in recent months, even as a prospect of corrective surgery offered some hope of relief.

I asked myself for hours after receiving the call, what might I have done to help him? Had I truly been there for him? Was there something I could have done or said to give him comfort, or perhaps even to have altered the outcome of events?
I don't know.

I will remember R for a long time to come. He inspired me and challenged me and offered me an example of just how intensely a man could seek and embrace his God.