A friend has been lost

A good man is gone

final stage of life

By Jim LaJoie

An inevitable part of getting older is that, unfortunately, you will see an inexorable march of family and friends passing. Every year that passes, with each most recent loss, an acknowledgement of your own mortality also comes into focus.

The reason for the somber beginning to this post is that earlier this week a friend of some 20 years has passed. He was only recently diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer and declined quickly. He was in a great deal of pain at the end, making his passing both sorrowful and a relief. Alan passed in hospice with his wife and two daughters by his side, a family man to the end.

I, like most who have lived many decades, have previously experienced someone close to me dying. The news of this, though not unexpected, still was a gut punch to me.

His wife is a close friend of my wife, which is how I met Alan. Before relocating from Massachusetts to North Carolina, we saw them on a monthly basis, typically over dinner, but also often at our homes. Alan was someone who was easy to like, he was an even-tempered and amiable guy, always quick with a kind word of encouragement and support, a guy you felt comfortable around from the moment you met him. He made friends easily and often. He always had a good word to say about almost everyone he ever met. I doubt he had an enemy in the world.

This post is not meant to be a maudlin one, despite what I have written so far. My friend had a great life. He exemplified my personal definition of a good man: deeply caring and supportive of his family, ethical, hardworking, kind, respectful, resilient, down-to-earth, and with a good sense of humor. He was a good man for some 70-plus years, a loving and loyal husband for a little more than half a century, a proud father of two kind and well-adjusted daughters, an attentive and engaged grandfather to six, and a very good friend to many. Alan had a wide range of interests, from traveling to photography. He lived well and will be remembered very fondly by all who knew him.

Alan was someone I greatly admired. He and his wife worked hard at jobs that paid decently, but not well. Nevertheless, through their frugality and diligence they were able to own a modest home, raise two children, paid their bills on time and had a little left over for humble family vacations. He and his wife forged a good life together, a well-lived life.

He was a self-described “regular guy”. In many ways he was, but he never saw what others saw in him: a great man. This was a man who doted on all six grandchildren, but especially so on a grandchild with Down syndrome, patiently and lovingly spending time with him, treating him as a cherished gift, which. in fact, this child sincerely was to Alan. This was a man who had a mini-stroke a few years ago, did what he could to convalesce quickly in order to return to volunteering to help those less fortunate, something he derived enormous satisfaction from. This was a man who adored his wife, his best friend, his life partner.

I guess I am struggling with this for many reasons, not the least because of the man he was, a truly great guy, someone to emulate. I certainly would regret hearing of the passing of anyone, no matter what type of person they were, but in this case, losing such a good person and friend was difficult to hear. It was difficult knowing what his loss will mean to his family and friends. And, selfishly, what it means to me.

A very good man has left us.

Those who knew Alan will cherish the memories of shared moments. He will live on through the legacy of his kids and grandkids. He also leaves a legacy of being someone who I, and others, viewed as a role model for what a good man should be.

I am lucky to have known this man.

I will miss you, Alan. I already do.

About the author: Jim LaJoie is a resident of North Carolina.

It is free to subscribe to Greybeard Journal