Tribute to good men everywhere

Mark Twain said, “Let us live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.”
As I get older, death becomes more real and personal. When I was in college many years ago and my grandfather died, he was the first person that I really “knew’ that had passed on. Now I have experienced that sense of loss for a brother, my mom, many aunts, uncles and friends. Most tragically, are those whose death was too soon because of mental health issues.
There is a proverb that goes something like this. A young son asks his father, “What is happiness?” The father thinks, then says, “When the grandfather dies, the father dies and then when the son dies.” Astonished the young man asks, “How can so much death result in happiness?” The father replies, “Because they died in the order they should have.”
After seeing my father and mother grieve over the death of a son taken when he was so young, I know there is no consoling or mending the broken heart of a parent that has buried a child.
Recently we have experienced what seems like untimely passing of too many good men in San Juan County. My father-in-law now laments that he knows more people in the cemetery than at the grocery store.
I know we are born, we pay taxes, and we die. Somethings are pretty certain. But that doesn’t stop us from celebrating the birth of a child, begrudging paying taxes, and from grieving a death.
I have been blessed by knowing many good men that lived true to their creed, dedicated to their family, contributed to their community, and treated all they encountered with respect.
I want to celebrate those men that were called Husband, Father, Brother, Grand-Father and Friend. All these titles...were worn with pride and earned by their actions each day...they carried them to the next world grateful to have something so valuable to show for their time here on earth. They didn’t preach sermons, but they were effective missionaries, hell sometimes they even cussed, but they got up every day and worked, determined to carry their weight and meet their responsibilities. Fact is, they probably squirmed when they had to wear a tie, tried to sneak their pocketknife into heaven, wore a sweat stained hat, had callouses on their hands, and drove a truck with enough tools laying around to overhaul an engine.
They taught us many things in life, they showed us how to go about doing good as a plumber, gardener, social-worker, soldier, teacher or rancher. They were no nonsense get-er-done people that helped anyone that needed it without judgement or expectation.
They were patient and talked with a soothing voice for animals and babies but could unleash a storm of words if you brought them the wrong tool. They expected every eight-year-old to know the difference between a ball peen hammer, a claw hammer, a welder’s hammer, a sledgehammer and a mallet.
They demonstrated compassion, kindness, and dry humor. They crossed all walks of life and people as is evident by the number of people that attend their funerals or have a specific fond memory of them.
They taught us to celebrate living and hard work. Many passed on an errant gene that makes us stronger than we should sometimes be; it makes us stubborn and inflexible.
The two-edged sword of independence slices all relationships in life. I believe that they would now counsel us to not be that man or woman that cannot ask for help, show love, or say I’m sorry or thank you.
It has been over twenty years since my own father passed on. It started out as lung cancer but eventually it was his liver that gave out.
Today is our chance to thank them for the way they brightened our lives, for the lessons they taught us. Today is our chance to learn one last valuable lesson.
I have learned that when you are in the service of your fellow man, you are only in the service of your God. Don’t wait until they die to let them know how much you appreciate them.
“When the elderly die, a library is lost, and volumes of wisdom and knowledge are gone.” A plate of cookies and just spending time with them is always a good idea.