Saturday, June 26, 2010

I just recently lost a sweet friend to a sudden heart attack. In recent days, those of us who knew him have been recalling how fun he was. How unique. How full of vibrancy. Life. Enthusiasm. And a wicked sense of humor.

He was born and raised in Ireland, stood perhaps five feet tall and epitomized the perfect gentleman in manner and dress. One friend wrote that it was as if he was from a different time. She couldn’t have been more accurate with her assessment. To meet him, was what I imagine it would be like to see an actual leprechaun come to life. And I mean that in the most complementary way. He was genuinely kind, sincere and jovial. I can’t ever recall a time when I didn’t see him smiling, laughing or both.

A large gathering of us made it a point to converge several times a year. My friend most often went in with others and shared a hotel room. Now there are differing opinions as to why he did this. Some think it was to help offset the cost of the room. But those of us who knew him well, were aware of his true motives.

In short, my friend was a trickster. I don’t think there was anything he liked better than playing jokes on someone, unless it was to see them break into laughter when they realized he’d “gotten” them. If you were one of the ones who shared a hotel room with him, you would be rewarded by having a condom fitted over the shower nozzle so that when you went to turn on the shower, water hesitated and then exploded all over the place. And just in case he didn’t think you might be taking a shower any time soon, he had another way to get to you—wrapping the top of the toilet bowl with plastic wrap. Lord, what a mess that made. And just in case you managed to somehow avoid those traps, he’d be sure to short sheet your bed, just to keep the fun going until the very end.

Was my friend a ten-year-old? No. Far from it. He was my senior by perhaps ten years, but never gave up being in touch with his inner child. He didn’t possess a malicious bone in his body, just an undying appetite to make folks happy. And he adored being the brunt of jokes as much as he liked playing them on others.

Fun. Enthusiastic. Charming. Gracious. Dignified. Those are the words that describe my friend. He maintained that persona until the very end. I have no doubt that when he died he held a smile in his heart and wore a grin upon his cherub face, probably thinking of the next prank he could pull.

The world needs more like my friend. He made it a better place and was a shining example of what we should all strive to do—live each and every moment to the fullest.

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