Moments

Steve met Danny many years ago. When Steve first started working for the lighting company, Danny was tasked with buying the line at his own company, so the two of them started working together. Danny died a few weeks ago.

Steve wrote the following. Last night he handed it to me to read. (Posted with permission from Steve, a frequent guest Sandblogger.)

Today I sat and watched, helplessly, a 14 year old say goodbye to her father, a wife of 24 years say goodbye to her husband, and a crowd, filled to overflowing in the chapel of a funeral home, say goodbye to a friend. No matter what kind of life was lived or how many birthdays celebrated, we are NEVER READY to let go. My grandmother passed away in her 90's and despite "comforting" words like, "She lived a good life" and "She went peacefully," believe me -- we were NOT READY to let her go. Danny was a scant 53 years old and none of us had any idea how to say goodbye. As I looked around the room at the spread of photos showing Danny as a young employee, a young husband, a young father, it occurred to me that perhaps our lives are not measured in years but in moments. The moment you pass from school age into 'adulthood,' the moment your one and only says "yes," the moment you both say "I do," the moment your baby says "Dada," the moment you spend with friends laughing so hard you can't breathe, the moment you are introduced to a room full of people as "my best friend," the moment you watch a sunset at the beach, the moment you see your hometown from the air, the moment... the moment... the moment. It filled my eyes with tears and my throat with a lump when I realized that I would never again have the moment of peering around the edge of Danny's desk and hearing, "Hey, Steve-O." Danny always had a smile -- sometimes a beef to go along with it, but ALWAYS a smile. He will be missed, and every time we think of him will be a moment to smile.