2011 - A Bumpy Start

These past few months have been extremely challenging and wearing on me. In January, my circle of friends lost one of our own when Connie passed away. If you've read my blogs from a couple of years ago, I mention Connie as we were coping with the diagnosis of stage 4 cancer as well as subsequent and very quick death of our friend Kim. She was such a rock - she kept me informed, kept Kim calm and through it all, we became ostracized by her soon to be ex-husband and kids but we didn't care; we were just helping Kim fulfill her last wishes. I hate it when families make it all about them.

I met Connie in the Jaycees 16 years ago when I was a newbie and attending a conference in Dillon; during lunch, these two HUGE guys come trotting in wearing cowboy hats, carrying ropes and riding stick horses. They are looking around the crowd for someone on a wanted poster that has an outline but no picture. The "cowboys" stop at a table near the front of the room and read a few funny words, then say this 5 digit number. Everyone erupts into cheers; this is when I learned what a Senatorship is in our organization - an honor bestowed upon those that have spent countless hours volunteering, leading, and whatever else a bunch of people see as a good reason to give this prestigious award. Connie was the one person I have known that has been truly deserving of that award; not just then but even to this day. What a legacy she has left.

Connie was such a good person. She helped me during my Jaycee years as I learned to be a leader, dealing with some trying issues but guiding me to become a well-rounded, resourceful person. She was kind, had this contagious laugh and always had a good word to say to everyone. When she went into the dumps for a couple of years, I spent weeks trying to get her out and about doing things with me or our group of friends. When she finally returned my phone call after a couple of months of weekly phone calls, the first thing she said to me was "I'm glad you didn't give up on me." After that, we had dinners at her house; went to concerts and festivals; took small hikes around and in town and just had fun together in general. Her death hit many of us very hard; she was so loved by many. I still miss her very badly - get choked up talking about her.

A couple of weeks ago when I came back from my trip to Cincy, I found out that another friend of mine had died; this one committed suicide. Although I hadn't talked to Chris in a few months, I was very sad. I wonder what is so bad that someone feels they need to end their pain? To the vast majority of us, there is a way to persevere. Guess for some, that isn't as easy. Chris was a troubled soul, but a good kid. I hope he has found the peace he so desperately was seeking.

As I reflect back on the many people in my past that have left this life and those that will in the not-so-distant future, I feel fear for them - and for me. What are they thinking or feeling? Are they scared? I know I am. My biggest fear is not doing enough help to my loved ones when they need me the most. How do you help and comfort them? What do you say? I have literally pondered this every day since January 19th, the day I found out Connie died. Guess all we can do is the best we know how and quit worrying if we are doing enough. This doesn't comfort me much right now, but I gotta learn sometime.