This week a dear friend of mine passed away. He had been sick for at least 4 months and moving towards sickness long before his death. John was one of the most eccentric people I have ever met. He was also one of the most intelligent, frustrating and loving men I have ever met. We worked together for several years. I directed his work or, more tothe point, I did my best to direct his work. John directed himself despite all attempts to conform him to one standard or the other. Words do little to describe him or the impact he made on my life and will continue to make in my life though he has moved on.
John was shaped by the difficult childhood he endured. He never asked for sympathy,and did not discuss his childhood until he knew you well. As I now know he carried his cards close to his chest. Even as he was dying he surprised me once again when I found out he has a daughter from a first marriage. He never once mentioned his daughter to me yet, Ms. Bea, John's wife assured me that John and his daughter had a great relationship. I am happy in that knowledge.
After a number of years of arguing, imploring, cajoling and outright commanding him to provide me with short reports I realized I was defeated before the battle began. Those years were full of laughing, making fun of each other and finding ourselves with much in common. Time passed and John told me about his paintings. Indeed his art work is phenomenal. Thoroughly researched, based mainly in the Civil War period and stunning in detail and color these paintings caught me off guard. After all the time we spent together he never once mentioned his art yet there it hung in his living room. I am certain my mouth dropped open.
Oh, there were many times I wanted to ring his neck. Nothing was ever simple with John. He defined obssessive compulsive and, despite all I could do, continued to bring me reports of 10 to 20 pages with information sorted, researched and minutely detailed. Nevermind that the information would not be used nor even seen by anyone else. He had a belief that if he continued in his own inimitable way the facts would find their way to the top one day. Conversations led into conspiracy theories of fascinating design. I found myself setting him up for a conversation of sort by dropping one word or sentence. Immediately, as if he had been triggered by an invisible force, John would launch into his theory or thoughts on the subject and I, shame on me, would spend time baiting him, teasing him and generally disrupting him until he showed me he had come to the end of his ability to endure me. I would shut up and he would continue to himself, muttering and figuring, as he did his work.
I met his wife. The mysterious and, by John's reckoning, the loveliest woman with impeccable manners, a great shape and he, the lucky suitor, the envy of many a man. Meeting Ms. Bea, John's darling, told me more about this man than any one thing. She was and is all the things he claimed and more. He loved her with a beautiful love, a devotion deeply ingrained in him and he never once said otherwise or showed shame in bragging about his wife.
After that the three of us became fast friends. Ah...the story goes on for awhile. I retired. John, believing that retirement was a ticket to poverty and death, stayed on despite his detiriorating health. The poverty of his childhood fueled a fear of imminent poverty that none of us could touch or refute effectively. I knew when I left that he was devastated. We both knew things would change for him. Our working relationship had provided an avenue for John to work and communicate in a way that he had not experienced. I suppose my total acceptance and love for him helped others to see him in a different light. As time passed he forged his own friendships and became a familiar figure around the hangars and supply stores. He never conformed. Not one tiny inch. He did allow himself to impact and be impacted by people who learned to be fond of him. In return he gave back a respect and loyalty that humbled more than one person. Once you were in his good favor he would lay down his life for you. He loved God, loved Jesus, loved life. If he could be at his upcoming memorial service he would say, in all honesty and humility, I love all of you so much!
I miss him. I will miss him until we meet again. There is no way to get over John or to emerge from a friendship with him the same as when the friendship began. I want to write and write to keep him alive in this writing. While I am happy here I look forward to the day when John and my many loved ones who have gone before me can be reunited. John, if true to his nature, will stand guard watching and waiting with high expectations for that day to come. Boys! Won't I be happy to see him!
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