Imprints

It was hard to walk into the funeral home to see Joe, the war vet I met over a year ago. He looked so still. I haven't been to many funerals in my life. Some I've stayed away from and others I missed. Joe looked very peaceful. I'm sure I'm not the first to say this, but I almost waited for him to wake up and smile at everyone.

I must admit, for not having known him well, I felt so much grief. Which just goes to show you that anyone you meet can affect your life in ways you'll never thought of or fully understand. I knelt at his coffin and said a short prayer. His portrait from his Army days was displayed next to the coffin. He was a strapping guy.

There weren't many visitors to the viewing. The majority of them were friends and his only blood relative was his son, Michael. I guess at 93, most of your friends have gone before you. What was most important was that those people who loved him best were there to say goodbye.

Tomorrow is the burial. The last burial I went to was my uncle Raul. I had to travel back to my home town for that funeral. But before he died, I was able to speak to him over the phone. My Mom prompted me to call him and tell him that I'd be coming home and that we should plan a fishing trip. My uncle was very excited at the prospect of taking me fishing and said he'd have a fishing pole ready for me. I didn't get to take that rip as he died before I could come home.

In college, there was this advertising manager at my college paper, Jack. Jack was a big dude, over six feet tall. He had this commanding voice and a very direct demeanor that sometimes left you in shock. Like when I was training to design. I would fly that computer like Fats Waller flew his piano. Suddenly, Jack would scream, "Boy, slow down. You're gonna mess up." Jack would use one of those old, wooden rules with the metal guide on one side to measure things on the screen when at 100% magnitude. They tell you NEVER to do that because, like in side mirrors in cars, "Objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear." You can't trust anything you see on the monitor, no matter how good or properly balanced it is. Jack would NEVER get a measurement wrong. He and I grew to become great friends. He even started to like some of the same music I did. Once, while playing an Eagles tape, he asked me to make him a copy of mine because he really liked it. Jack contracted cancer just before I left Del Mar College for Texas A&I in Kingsville. And one day, at school, a mutual friend came to tell me he had died. I found out later that Jack thought well of me. Often. His wife told me that on more than one occasion he spoke of this really great kid at the paper. We established a scholarship at Del Mar for Jack. And each time I was invited to introduce the scholarship, I cried. Every time. I never got to give Jack that tape.

Even though Joe was a new friend, the imprint of his life will have a place in mine.

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