Things I Will Miss About Him

I will miss seeing his little red sedan coming down the road.

I will miss his comings and goings, and the brief exchanges we had in passing.

I will miss seeing the bumper sticker on his car, knowing that the kids he coached thought enough of him to make an effort to help him in his hour of need. They got involved in the effort to fight cancer because of him. It mattered to them that he knew he mattered.

I will miss knowing that he touched many lives because he insisted on working, even through the tough, painful days. He didn't quit.

I will miss the man who was an inspiration to adults and kids. Where will they turn when they have those moments of doubt? Who will show them what courage looks like, sounds like, feels like?

He wasn't a superhero. He didn't leap tall buildings in a single bound or fly through the air. I never saw him wearing tights and a unitard. What I saw was him shuffling along with his rollator, struggling to get to where he wanted to be. One foot in front of the other. One day at a time.

He was a decent human being who found himself facing a tough opponent. It was a scary battle. His foe was unrelenting. But he worked through the pain because he needed to believe that his life still counted for something, that he still counted for something.

There were times he doubted the path he was on. He even doubted himself. But he still persisted.

His future was clouded by cancer. This disease robbed him of the moments that normal people take for granted. He learned the hard way to make his life count.

He will not be around to see the kids he coached grow up. He will not attend their weddings or celebrate their life events. He won't be here to cheer them on as they grow into the people they were meant to be.

But he will always be with them. He is a part of them now. They will remember him and be more compassionate with the people they meet in life. They will go the extra mile because they had the chance to learn that it counts.

And maybe the biggest lesson of all for them is the hardest to learn. Life isn't fair. We don't always get the breaks we deserve, no matter how worthy we are. Things happen that are beyond our control. We can only do the best we can with what we've got. We hone our skills and figure out ways to make improvements, so that we have the best chance to succeed. Sometimes we don't get there, but playing is always better than being stuck on the sidelines, wishing we could participate.

He went the distance. He put in the time, the energy, the effort, even though it was often so hard to do. Those kids will remember that. And they will remember they were lucky to know him. And they will be better for having known him. And maybe one day, one of those kids...or two...or three...will decide that it's their turn to guide young lives, to mentor them, to encourage them, to believe in them and what they can do.

We are here on this earth for such a short time. Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. The spirit lives on in every heart. Rest in peace, Coach.