and Words
As the sun hides its head
Another nights rest
And the wind sings
Its same old song
And you on the edge
Never close, never far
Always there
When I needed a friend
But it′s hard living life
On this memory-go-round
Always up, always down
Spinning ’round and ′round and ’round
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
They moved my work desk to a new location, about 10 feet from John’s. He sat in a quiet corner diagonally from mine. He mostly sat on his desk, on his bone-conduction headset, as he conducted his meetings. Dutifully, he ran his routine. He arrives early in the morning, puts down his bag, and puts his coat on the coat rack. Upon ending his day, he reverses this ritual.
I had the opportunity to consult with him on several issues. He spoke calmly and confidently, though without ego. We teamed up to discuss challenges and pondered them together; we brainstormed. John could’ve easily directed or instructed you to “do it this way,” but instead, he persuaded you. In a world of ‘carrot’ and ‘stick’ people, he is a ‘carrot’ person.
Our friendship grew, one quip and one smartass remark at a time.
On Wednesday mornings, we have a ritual of sitting down for coffee in our floor’s kitchen. We coordinate our gatherings using a cryptically named Slack channel. We sit on a cluster of three tables, each with three chairs. During these chats, I discovered cold brew coffee, which flows freely from a tap in our kitchen and is my beverage of choice. Though I don’t need coffee to function, nor do I especially crave it. The coffee is simply a mechanism to bring us together.
We chat about anything. Naturally, we often talk about the nature of our projects at work; it has become a great opportunity to not only brainstorm but also to network with people who may have better answers. Sometimes, we talk about our personal lives, whether this means health struggles, what we each did over the weekend, or even events during vacations.
John may join us when his schedule permits, typically as a response to my quipping, “[insert random person sitting at table] said you’d sit with us” while he fetches his coffee. He listens carefully while others speak, though when he speaks, he does it with compassion and empathy. Oh, and John is funny! He’ll often have us chuckling during our coffee chats. He is always a straight shooter, delivering bad news without sugarcoating it.
John speaks with great joy when he mentions his family. His expression brightens, his eyes squint a little, and a perpetual grin is glued to his face as he speaks of family. Even the occasional hiccup is met with an abundance of affection for those of whom he speaks. He speaks of them as if he’s the luckiest man to be with them.
John listens and understands if you’re looking for help or merely venting, and he seamlessly pivots the conversation to what you most need. He exemplifies leadership not only by practicing what he preaches but also by inspiring others to follow. There’s a quote from Ruth Bader Ginsburg:
Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you.
And he did precisely that; he led us. He became the president of our Toastmasters chapter at the company. This is precisely how he did it; he did what he preached and inspired us to follow. In his last speech, he spoke in intricate detail about Dutch oven cooking and its versatility. I’m not kidding; he even brought one to the meeting to demonstrate. I can safely say that I’ll never see or hear a reference to a Dutch oven without thinking of John. 🙂
I’m proud to call John my friend.
On a cold morning in Michigan, I turned to reading mail from work and notifications on Slack. I’m technically on leave, tending to a family emergency, but I’m playing the role of supporting cast. I’ll happily be the beck-and-call boy when anyone needs anything. Occasionally, I’ll nibble at work and conversations where I may be able to make some progress.
When I first saw the announcement from the head of the company, I read the name, but John is a common name. I continued my local role of beck-and-call boy, attending to whatever anyone needed. It took me hours to realize that it was my friend John. Death strikes each of us differently; for me, it’s mostly quiet and contemplative. I can often hold it to a trickle, like you may regulate the water from a faucet. Inevitably, anger and despair will blindside me like a tsunami. I can only brace for impact.
I still struggle speaking of him in the past tense.
Quietly, I searched for an appropriate way to say goodbye to John. I reflected on those conversations, some serious and others funny, but all meaningful. Those moments returned in a series of flashbacks. As I pondered how our work would continue in his absence, those words floated in my head, “but it’s hard living life on this memory-go-round.” Night Ranger’s ‘Goodbye’ tells the story of friendship. More importantly, it tells the story of loss and emptiness:
And all this could beSuch a dream, so it seemsI was never much good at goodbye
For the foreseeable future, we’ll continue precisely this way, as if John were on vacation and has yet to return. His desk is vacant but with all his things. Eventually, someone will pack his things to give to his family, dividing up his personal items and work equipment.
The next person who sits in that corner will have enormous shoes to fill. We’ll speak with a bittersweet smile as we tell them tales about John.
I regret he’ll no longer be the sounding board for his class of technical challenges. It pains me that he’ll no longer guide our progress in our Toastmasters chapter. However, I would gladly give those up for one more conversation with my friend.
I’ll miss you, John.