My friend Eric

I'm grieving for my friend Eric. He died Friday night.

My heart hurts.

My head aches. And I want to cry.

Life pushes in from all sides, and there's no privacy for my grief.

I am exhausted. Self-care is crumbling under the burdens I bear.

Panic crouches at the door.

My wife and his widow share the same first name. Mine is battling chemotherapy, but his is suffering heartbreak and shock.

Eric and I shared laughs and deep thoughts. He was generous, and he could fix anything! He repaired my cars a time or two.

There was a time in the winter of 2003 when I drove my 1993 Suzuki Sidekick soft top to my dad's farm to pick up some bales of hay for a teacher's classroom decorations. The temperature was close to zero degrees Fahrenheit when I arrived, and by the time we loaded the hay into the Sidekick, the car had been sitting for more than an hour. I unzipped the rear plastic window to put the bales inside, instead of opening the tailgate as I should have done.

When I put the first bale into the car, I had to set it on the plastic window, which was resting on the spare tire. Are you familiar with what happens to hard, cold plastic in a situation like that? Yeah, it shatters. My rear window splintered into several dozen pieces, and I had a freezing ride home!

When Eric found out what happened, he told me to drop my Suzuki off at his house. He repaired the window so well it looked better than the original! He also fixed some other spots that needed help, and he only charged for the parts he bought. He was just that kind of man.

We experienced car troubles many times, and he loaned us a car whenever possible. I recall a time when I borrowed a sedan of his that did not require a key to start the engine. I used the keys to lock and unlock the car, but was able to operate the vehicle without them. I never had the chance to find out why the sedan functioned like that. Eric might not have known, for that matter.

He and his wife raised three children, all of whom I've known most of their lives. For a few years, I was their school principal and one of their teachers. Additionally, I'm an uncle to some of their cousins. From all accounts, Eric was a good man, and I can only imagine the void he has left in their lives. He was not the kind of friend I called to say, "Hey." He was family. B-i-l to my B-i-l. Close enough. A man to be trusted. A man to be missed.

I knew him to help my family and me, but also to help others. A kind word, a quiet demeanor, a hearty laugh when it mattered--and giving of his resources and time. Last spring, when my wife had surgery and we needed people to drive our kids to their respective high schools in the mornings, he volunteered one day.

He graduated from our younger son's high school but didn't realize they'd built a new one, so he drove to the old one. My son had to redirect him to the new one. Eric expressed surprise, but he was gracious. I never knew him to be ungracious. My boys didn't know him well, but they appreciated his kindness to them.

I will miss Eric. And I grieve for his wife, children, and grandchildren.

No, it's not that I will miss Eric. I already do.

_________________________________________________

Post Script: I read this as a eulogy during the reception after the memorial service. I'm not sure I would have done so without all of the encouraging comments from so many of you, so thank you for those! Eric's family was thankful for this and for your condolences, too. Thank you all so much for your kindness and support.

Sincerely,

Mack.