I met this man 17 years ago - new to the city, he was an elder in the congregation. His personality was warm and loud - (a New Yorker, of course) -- I had left home, but I was reminded of home every time he opened his mouth. One of the most endearing things about him was the way he pronounced Jehovah - with an "er" at the end, more like Jehover... boy was he loud and warm
I told him how much he reminded me of my family, in particular, my brother ... and years later when my mother moved to Florida and joined his bookstudy - he cared for her like a son would. The night she laid dying in the hospital, I called him and he came ... running down the hall ... and we cried together.
We've been through alot - us two . . . good and bad. We weren't friends that spoke daily - or weekly - through the years - but the feelings we had for eachother (and our families) were real. Next month will make 2 years since my mom's death. I asked him to give her funeral talk - At first he said he didn't know if he could - But then he said he "had to" - None of us thought he'd make it through it, and he almost didn't. He cried, we all cried - his tribute to my mother was wonderful - he was talking about someone he loved and we all knew it ...
I have absolutely no desire to enter a hall again - but for him I must. I hope no one decides to try to "reach out" to me and warn me about "the time being short, etc." I hope no one decides they must make a sheparding call because seeing us reminds them that they haven't seen us. But I've got to go. It's the right thing to do.
(In loving memory of Frank M.)