Tribute to a Friend

My friend Gary died yesterday after a long battle with cancer. In the 1980s, I babysat for Gary and his wife, Therese, who were also leaders of the Church Youth Organization (CYO). They lived with their three young children in a small cape, and their door was always open to the restless teenagers who streamed in and out, helping themselves to peanut butter and fluff from the cupboards or settling in beside Gary and Therese on the couch, disrupting their plans for a quiet Saturday night with Ben & Jerry and a bad movie. For most of us, this was a vast improvement to the alternative: an evening an home with parent(s) who struggled with poverty, alcohol, and depression. You could count on Gary and Therese, period. And now Gary is gone.

I had not seen Gary in many years; I have lived on the Seacoast for about twenty years now and they stayed in Manchester. I also moved away from the church, and they remained very active. But there is no doubt in my mind that had I shown up at their door at any time, day or night, I would have been welcome to any peanut butter left in the cupboards and a spot on the sofa. Here is part of the letter I sent to Therese today.

Rest in peace, Gary—and thank you.

I wondered what I could possibly write about Gary—what exactly makes him stand out for me besides the corny jokes and the fact that the pair of you had so much more faith in me than I had in myself and weren’t afraid to show it. Here is what I decided.

Sometimes on my lunch break, I leave my office and watch 20 minutes of “House Hunting.” It seems like there are two kinds of buyers.

The first set will look at a perfectly good house, especially the kitchen, in which everything is in fine working order. They will say, “This house could be OK if we took everything out and started over. We want stainless steel appliances and marble counters.” At the end of the show, you see them living in this house. All of the “old” stuff is gone and they have spent thousands on renovations.

I love that Gary wasn’t like that. It always seemed to me that Gary was able to see the value of exactly what was in front of him (again, even when we couldn’t necessarily see it for ourselves). He didn’t waste time fruitlessly chasing after something “better.” Some people never learn that lesson and it felt like he got it right from the start.

The other set of people are watching their budget. On those shows, the producers actually tell you how much each square foot costs. $586 per square foot! $480 per square foot! It seems to me that in a short period of time, Gary packed a lot of life into each square foot. Thirty-six years of marriage. (!!!) Grown children. A grandchild. So many people to influence and inspire. Coworkers. Friends. And back in the ‘80s, a bunch of restless teenagers who found comfort in sharing a few pints of Ben & Jerry’s and a bad movie with both of you on a Saturday night.

So many people will miss Gary. My heart breaks for all of you. But each time one of us “pays it forward,” even just a little, that part of his life will go on.