Remember how they lived
After writing my last column on the loss of a dear friend, I’m emotionally spent. This week, I can’t go that deep or dark. Maybe you get it. Maybe you don’t. Those kinds of columns tax my well-being. Other writers may find it easy. I don’t. After putting every ounce of physical, mental, and emotional energy I have into that piece, I’m frayed. So, this week’s column will be less deep and dark. It’s a compilation of more pleasant thoughts.
Recently, I saw Linda Cannon Bailey, along with her daughter Jennifer and granddaughter Claire. It’s the first time I’ve seen them since the loss of her husband Rick last September. Rick was one of my favorite readers. He was always thoughtful in his comments. Mrs. Bailey talked about how much she loved and missed him. You could see in her eyes she was as much in love with him as the day they married. She told me in all their years together, she never heard him say a bad word. It was a simple but huge compliment. Like most times when someone dies, those outside family and close friends move on rather quickly. Talking with Mrs. Bailey was a reminder families suffer loss much longer. As good as Rick was, I know he felt blessed to have such a woman as Linda to be his wife.
Two weeks ago, I had a need to visit Doss Printing. Seeing Charles and Roy is always comforting. They have always shown me love and friendship despite my shortcomings. This says a lot about people. Good things. Nick at Doss Printing helped me first. Needing a second visit, I was helped by a young man named Todd Coker. He was very professional and polite. Todd impressed me. I ask him about his parents. He told me his mama and daddy are Roger and Frankie Ezell Coker. It took my mind back to the days Roger’s mama and daddy, Frank, and Betty Coker, owned a restaurant called the Dinner Deck. It was all you can eat good seafood. Many of us have wonderful memories there. Family owned and operated, several of our local folks were employees. The Coker family are good people. Todd is no exception. He has had good examples in his life and has learned well.
A week ago, I ran in to Scott Jones. He and his wife Sherrie lost one of their sons, Wes, to a tragic suicide 3 years ago.
Scott and Sherrie Jones are two of the finest people on the planet. Their other son Duncan and daughter-in-law Mary Ruth have given them a beautiful granddaughter Eleanor. No one can ever replace Wes in their hearts. He made them proud. Duncan, Mary Ruth, and Eleanor are continuing to make the Jones’ proud parents and grandparents. I’d say Eleanor is helping them remember they have much to be thankful for. Between Eleanor’s parents and grandparents, she will always be loved.
Reflecting on last week’s column about the loss of my friend Charles Worley, none of his friends felt the loss more than Rocky Hendrix. It was Rocky who was riding in the cart with him. Rocky drove him from the 3rd hole to the ambulance. And it was Rocky who heard Charles say several times as he was holding him in the cart, “Jesus. Help me.” Rocky did all he could to help Charles. Yet, for a moment, he questioned his own actions. The cardiologist called him to tellhim there was nothing more he could have done. I’m thankful for doctors like that. God knew Rocky needed to hear it from someone who knew the facts. Because of Rocky’s deep faith, God did provide. Ain’t you glad God knows exactly what we need and when we need it.
The football film “Brian’s Song” came out in 1971. It was the story of Chicago Bears players Brian Piccolo and Gayle Sayers. Two men of different races who became friends. Their friendship is highlighted when Brian Piccolo dies of cancer. The movie made grown men cry. The voiceover at the end of the movie said this. “Brian Piccolo died of cancer at the age of 26. He left a wife and three daughters. He also left a great many loving friends who love him and think of him often. But when they think of him, it’s not how he died that they remember. It’s how he lived. How he did live.”
In this column, I’ve remembered the late Rick Bailey, Frank and Betty Coker, Wes Jones, and Charles Worley. Each of them, gone but not forgotten. They all had good lives. Now I’m confident they all rest with Jesus. So, when we remember them, let’s not remember how they died. Let’s remember how they lived. Oh, how they did live!