What do you say when the feelings are so deep the words just get in the way and stumble over each other? I don’t know the answer to this, but I’ll make an awkward attempt.
I have lost my best friend, Dave Grammer, and my feelings are raw, right on the edge. Even as I type these words, tears come to my eyes.
In your quiet, gentle way, dear friend, you showed me the true meaning of compassion. It was in the countless ways you thought of others instead of yourself. There was that daily phone call when you would ask, “How are you doing, young man? (I liked that “young man” phrase). It was in the “taxi service” beyond anything I could ask for. Whenever I needed to go somewhere, even though I could have taken the bus or the trolley, you wanted to take me in your van. My mind and my heart are filled to over-flowing with the countless acts of kindness you performed.
Even as your body began to fail, and we had to take care of you, you often said, “This is so inconvenient for you”.
No, my friend, it was such a privilege, such an honor, to give some of that compassion back to you.
And then there was always that dry sense of humor that never left you. In one of our last conversation, I told you that as former pilots, we would fly together again someday, and you said, “Yes, but let’s not take off today.”
As you left us, your loving wife, Sue Ellen, whom you simply adored, was holding one of your hands, and I was holding the other. You told us repeatedly that you would not leave us, and that is so true. That magnificent spirit of yours will always be a part of the countless lives that you touched.