My plane landed in Boston last Tuesday just as the text came through...
"The family is not taking any more visitors. You can call him and leave him a message, or send him an email. His wife plays them for him, or reads them aloud."
I told you about my friend who is dying of ALS a week or so ago. I was hoping to swing by the hospital to see him, but I was too late for that visit.
I felt a sense of urgency... and regret. I had sensed something was wrong a year ago, but I never thought it would come to this... not this quickly.
He is one of those "business" friends... someone I worked with from another company, who I ran into at conferences... but his friendship was more than that...
there was a mutual respect and admiration, not just for what we saw each other trying to do in our companies, but the sense we had about each other's devotion and sense of life.
Facebook kept us connected after our companies stopped doing business together. When he was let go from his company, we spoke often, and probably got to know each other best. We spoke about once a week for months, trying to develop a plan forward and navigate the uncertainty of those moments with courage and confidence.
We interviewed him to come work with us. The timing just wasn't right, and we were worried that he may be a little bit "too nice" for our team. It saddens me, that being "too nice" can be a draw back.
He was always so complementary of EMG. He saw our desire to be different, to think beyond what was obvious... he always told me - "You are the only company that is innovating, looking beyond the normal boundaries of our industry." He was here for our 25th Anniversary gala. He saw me and he saw our company, and he valued it.
But, more than all of that... he was a kindred spirit... romantic, humble, hard working. He looked small against the backdrop of the world behind him, and yet his smile made you feel like that was all you needed to go forward.
I ran the concept of harmony by him early on. He considered it as the keynote conversation for their national convention, but felt it wasn't quite cooked enough... and he was right.
So, there I am on the runway... dialing his number, tears welling up in my eyes...
"Life sometimes comes down to a phone call to say good-bye" I thought.
I have, at times of death, heard the cry, "Is this all there is... Is this all it was?"
I leaned my head against the seat in front of me, and I started speaking into the recorder...
I spoke to him and his wife. I thanked him for sharing our journeys.
I didn't say "goodbye"...
not in those words...
I said "thank you" and "I love you!"
I told him that he touched my heart and made a forever lasting impression with his kindness and warmth...
I think about him and his wife and their young children and my heart hurts...
And, it inspires me...
Life does come down to a simple "goodbye"...
whether its a message on a phone left from the runway,
or a slow kiss,
or a hug that you wish would never end...
or sometimes it's a loving thought, a memory...
It ends in a simple moment,
with the same words,
the same affection...
with which we live...
I wish there were special words that you could use for special occasions to mark them differently... to give them the importance they deserve... but the moment so often makes the words memorable, not the other way around.
I don't think about death all the time to overly dramatize it,
nor to instill fear nor regret nor disharmony...
I think about dying,
because it so reminds me of living,
it keeps me present and grateful and respectful and humble...
I hung up the phone,
my head still leaning on the seat in front of me...
tears rolling down my face,
and I looked up and around the plane at all of us moving systemically through our day...
THIS IS IT, I thought...
this routine day...
this unique experience...
I called to say GOODBYE my friend,
you touched my heart,
God bless you and your family...
I am so very grateful
for knowing you...
and for today.
in harmony,
Nestor