Dean

Monday I took a short trip east to a memorial service for Dean, who died recently at age 89.

It was a nice service, a good showing of Dean’s friends and relatives.  A beautiful day all around.

I hardly knew Dean.  He was the guy who checked folks in at the local health center when we came in to walk in the morning.  The indoor walk became a habit for me after heart surgery in 2018.  Dean was the usual greeter until he retired last year.  Cancer was winning the race.

He would be like most service people we all meet every day, and take for granted.  I knew only fragments of his life.  His wife died a year before he did, and she had a rough road at the end.  He was a farm kid, had been in the Army, worked in security positions most of his work life, had great-grandchildren.

We all have Dean’s in our own lives.  Mostly we take them for granted, but if they happen to disappear for whatever reason there is a little vacant space in our lives.

I last saw Dean on his 89th birthday about two months ago (photo below, he’s at left).  He was going downhill rapidly, and wanted to come back to the health club to, I suppose, say farewell by his presence.  There was birthday cake, and coffee, and conversation, and then he was taken back to his nursing home.

After Monday’s service, the group gathered at graveside.  Taps was played, and two young military men did the presentation of the American flag in recognition of Dean’s status as a veteran.

I didn’t stay for lunch – I hadn’t seen anyone I knew there, and I really didn’t know much about Dean either, except that Dean in his quiet way exemplified the best about what I would call ‘community’.

Dean is at peace, and the world is a better place because he was here.

POSTNOTE July 10: This morning I learned that, in fact, 7 of my fellow walkers were at the service – they were simply sitting in a different part of the church, and after the graveside service, I had passed on the lunch and came home…..

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