I lost someone in my life twenty eight years ago. When he died i hardly knew him. We worked together but we weren’t friends then. That would be unlikely, if not impossible, because i was his supervisor.
Regardless, i liked him and enjoyed his company and his occasional bit of helpful advice. Soon after i got the supervisor’s job he came into the office, looked down at my desk and said, “Ya know, a clean organized desk is a sign of mental illness.”
I don’t remember how i responded or even if i responded. But i did think to myself that in my case, he could very well be right! I am not unfamiliar with obsessive compulsive behavior.
“Not much of a memorable encounter,” you’re probably saying. But given all that has passed and all i’ve learned, those brief encounters have stayed with me.
It wasn’t until after he died did he become my friend. It wasn’t until then that i learned so much about him. About his easiness, simplicity, honesty, wisdom, and life. All learned from and through his family who hold him in their heart and then shared him with me.
On this day, twenty eight years after that shitty day in September, I honor my friend and his family.