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In memoriam
Apr. 11th, 2009 02:58 pmAt work after attending the memorial service of a former intern (and the son of a dear friend.) A wonderful, intense man who was a self-described Renaissance Geek. A man who was an engineer, created raku pottery, composed electronic music, embraced life with both hands. I knew him as a quick mind seeking to find its place - multiple talents can lead to confusion - and as a loving and devoted son.
His father embraced me as I left the service and said, "your protege has gone before you. He was a shooting star." I squeezed his arm and said, "he was wonderful." Words fail.
Perhaps there was something in his DNA urging him to live so intentionally, something in his genetic code that whispered in the few hours a night he was known to sleep, "do more, go faster", the same code that stopped his heart a few months after his 29th birthday.
Who knows what secrets our DNA holds. I hope you have chance sometime this weekend to have fun, to live a little, to create.
I am at my sanctuary, the lab, with Max in my arms. I am doing busy work - purchase requests, documentation - before I go to get a long overdue haircut. After my haircut I am going to take my wife, who is bordering between mania and psychosis, to the beach. We'll look at the ocean and the nearly full moon. We'll walk to the beach where I held her close and promised to love her with every fiber of my being more than a decade ago.
We speak of her illness as a change in operating system. 2.0; 3.0. Our love is backward and forward compatible.
Sean, the Renaissance Geek, would occasionally join when I met his mother for coffee. Neither of them were coffee drinkers and she would order white wine. She hated drinking alone so he would order one too. I would tease him mercilessly about his "girl-ly" drink and he would say "It takes a tough man to drink a Chardonnay. Ninjas drink chardonnay!" Who knew?!?
There's a tiny restaurant on Highway 1, on the way back from the beach. Their wine list is extensive and in honor of Sean, in honor of life, in honor of the fact that I can hold Beth's hand in mine, I'll have a glass of pinot grigio. I'm not a ninja and hence can not steel myself sufficiently for chardonnay.
Laurel wrote, in announcing Sean's death, "It is going to be a long life ahead without this wonderful person who has blessed us so much in his 29 years."
My mind fails me; the only tribute I can give to Sean is my time - to drink with his mother, to regale his father with stories of his dead son's intellect and creativity.
If you have ideas how I can help Jim and Laurel, please leave them in the comments.
His father embraced me as I left the service and said, "your protege has gone before you. He was a shooting star." I squeezed his arm and said, "he was wonderful." Words fail.
Perhaps there was something in his DNA urging him to live so intentionally, something in his genetic code that whispered in the few hours a night he was known to sleep, "do more, go faster", the same code that stopped his heart a few months after his 29th birthday.
Who knows what secrets our DNA holds. I hope you have chance sometime this weekend to have fun, to live a little, to create.
I am at my sanctuary, the lab, with Max in my arms. I am doing busy work - purchase requests, documentation - before I go to get a long overdue haircut. After my haircut I am going to take my wife, who is bordering between mania and psychosis, to the beach. We'll look at the ocean and the nearly full moon. We'll walk to the beach where I held her close and promised to love her with every fiber of my being more than a decade ago.
We speak of her illness as a change in operating system. 2.0; 3.0. Our love is backward and forward compatible.
Sean, the Renaissance Geek, would occasionally join when I met his mother for coffee. Neither of them were coffee drinkers and she would order white wine. She hated drinking alone so he would order one too. I would tease him mercilessly about his "girl-ly" drink and he would say "It takes a tough man to drink a Chardonnay. Ninjas drink chardonnay!" Who knew?!?
There's a tiny restaurant on Highway 1, on the way back from the beach. Their wine list is extensive and in honor of Sean, in honor of life, in honor of the fact that I can hold Beth's hand in mine, I'll have a glass of pinot grigio. I'm not a ninja and hence can not steel myself sufficiently for chardonnay.
Laurel wrote, in announcing Sean's death, "It is going to be a long life ahead without this wonderful person who has blessed us so much in his 29 years."
My mind fails me; the only tribute I can give to Sean is my time - to drink with his mother, to regale his father with stories of his dead son's intellect and creativity.
If you have ideas how I can help Jim and Laurel, please leave them in the comments.
