Saying thank you

About an hour ago I sat in a memorial service for a family friend of ours who was murdered last week.

His murder makes no sense. He died at the hands of man he had been helping get back onto his feet. He died doing the very thing he had spent his entire life doing, trusting. His service was one of beauty and community and promise. Everything that he truly was.

I don't recall the very first time I ever met Robert, I'm not sure if many do. He was just "there." A warm, inviting presence that will be severly missed. He never met strangers, he always met friends.

One of Robert's oldest friends spoke of his humor and his ability to bring a smile to anyone's face. He told the story of when they had been walking home from grade school, probably around 8 or 9 years old, and Robert had said:
"Hey Henderson, what's green, grows and has wheels?"
Henderson thought for awhile and finally said, "I don't know Robert, what?"
And Robert replied: "Grass. It's green and it grows. I lied about the wheels part."

I hope that I can live my life in such a way that when I die people from all walks of the community come together to celebrate my life. Not mourn it, but rejoice in it while eating cake and telling stories. Maybe they'll even wear party hats and play music and hold each other oh-so-close while swaying to the beat. This sounds right to me.