Little sister said, “A good man died today.”
I always struggle with that word “good.”
It means different things to different people…
and yet another thing to society, in general.
Mike was fifty-two years old when he succumbed to the effects of this life
on his body this past New Year’s Day.
He had never accomplished anything of note.
He had spent his life indulging in many things,
some of which contributed to his demise.
Like most of us, he loved good music, good friends and good times.
To a passer-by, he might be seen as an example of a wasted life.
He had not planned for his future, nor even for the end of his future.
He lived one day at a time, and he lived each one abundantly.
His daily living expenses were provided by the state.
Mike wasn’t overly handsome. In fact, you could say that
physically, he was not attractive at all.
But he was one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever known.
When Mike looked at you, he looked at your spirit.
He was someone who always told you that you looked fantastic.
And he meant it.
Because he knew your heart and measured you by it.
When I made a decision to end an oppressive marriage of eighteen years,
Mike was astonished to find people saying of me, “Oh it’s so neat to see
Teri become such a free spirit.” He would reply, “No, no, no…
Teri has always been a free spirit… someone just parked a
semi-truck on her for awhile!"
This man seemed to have nothing but good things to give.
I looked up the word “good” in the dictionary.
Under the first entry, one of the definitions was “bountiful.”
By this definition, then truly, a good man died that day.
We’ll miss you, my friend.
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