Smell The Roses

I sat near the rear of the mega church. There must have been 300 - 400 people at the memorial service for my friend's son. Richie was about 27 years old. He was diagnosed as a child with the Jerry Lewis disease (muscular dystrophy). He lived longer than anyone expected.

I felt out of place here as I really didn't know him at all. I had met him once when he was about 10 years old. I had always meant to get down to Portland to spend more time with my friend and Richie. But I justified the 'non-visits' by claiming I was too busy.

As I listened to the stories , I realized that there was a common theme. The presenters ranged in age from early 20's to the late 70's, and they all portrayed Richie as a fun loving guy with a thirst for knowledge and understanding. He loved practical jokes. Someone mentioned that Richie really didn't have any time for lying or saying anything he really didn't mean. He knew his days were numbered and wanted to make the most of them. Despite his challenges, he graduated from Oregon State University, went to New York City by himself and enrolled at NYU and took courses at Harvard.

Richie's mother read a few letters from his friends back east. His minister read a long email that Richie had written. Both the email and the letters brought a vivid picture of a guy that wasn't afraid to express his thoughts,emotions and feelings.

When I left the service I no longer felt that I shouldn't have been there. Richie had allowed me into his life. I got a glimpse of his personallity, his friends and sense of humor and frustrations. Even in death this extraordinary young man still had the ability to sway and affect those around him.

We are all different. We have different beliefs, different experiences and different priorities. But all of our stories are going to end exactly the same way. But will we still have influence over those remaining after we leave?

Driving back to the airport, I had to ask. What am I doing? In our (or at least my) busy world, we are looking for shortcuts. We text instead of call or email or even talk to each other. When texting we don't even spell the whole word out anymore. Shortcuts for everything. It's like a race. First one to the end . . . What? Wins? I'm not sure.
Richie taught me to s l o w d o w n. Maybe call a few friends. Maybe write a letter or two. Can you imagine how impressed and precious it would be to get a real letter in the mail? and even more so if it wasn't asking for money. Maybe even try to express my feelings to those close to me. This is one race, I don't mind loosing.

I'm proud to say that Richard Zibell is a friend of mine. He has taught me avaluable lesson.

Until Next Time - Wise OUT