Saying Goodbye

My mom just called to tell me that my dad's best friend from high school died of a massive heart attack yesterday. He was 64 years old. My dad and mom met Walt when they were freshman in high school and was on the basketball team with my dad. He was a tall man with a huge smile, a kind spirit and a tremendously infectious laugh. He was a faithful friend.

I first met Walt when I was about 4 years-old. I had just woken up from a nap and he was standing there in his socks, holding a soda and talking to my dad on the back porch of our house in Florida. We had a lot of construction workers walking around the house because we were doing a renovation. I remember going up to my dad and asking him in a whisper why one of the workmen was standing there in his socks? Walt heard me and chuckled. I heard his laugh and saw his smile and liked him instantly.

As I get older, I realize that my parent's friends and family are at an age where I am having to say goodbye to them. And some of them way too soon. This is tough for me one a few levels. Saying goodbye is difficult enough, but for me these people helped keep my dad's memory alive. They have memories of him that they share that make him less of a ghost. Walt was one of these people. As I say goodbye to him, I say goodbye to my dad all over again.

I have no idea where Walt stood spiritually. It is not my job to judge another person's heart. But I pray from the bottom of my heart that he is, right now, shooting hoops with my dad, his laughing ringing through the courts of heaven.