When Gratefulness Is Elusive
You’ve had a helluva summer. Much love, man. I’m sorry about your friend.
This has been a summer of incredible loss for friends, their families, and then me, personally. Mostly expected, and one that was entirely not… the one that I will look back on with some regret, profound sadness, and actual loss.
June 19, 2021
Father’s Day, I found one of my pups, Mac, having passed away in my backyard. My time for grief however was postponed as Mac’s passing set in motion a severe evaluation of his brother Mace. I knew in my heart that I would have to finish their transition from this life, and that it would be this year.
August 18, 2021
The severe evaluation of Mace culminated in the decision to have him take his final nap. This was incredibly sad, but this added to my life, if that makes any sense.
August 25, 2021
I became aware that my longest and most enduring friend, Phil, was dealing with dire health issues related to COVID-19. He had been admitted to the hospital on August 14, and that was his last social media update, “Look who got COVID.” complete with a selfie of him wearing a cannula for oxygen. Phil was only 40 years old, not even a month into this milestone age. I did not text him, partially because that was not our style and partially because I had faith in God, and finally in our medical system’s improvement in treatment for this disease to carry him through. No news is usually good news, so when I found out he was in trouble, my heart became heavy. An extended stay in the hospital of more than a week has experiential consequences for those dealing with COVID-19. My heart remained hopeful though, as his condition neither improved or worsened.
August 30, 2021
My friend Phil passed away.
I learned of this while driving to my folk’s house. I had taken the day off as I had returned from my trip to Maine the day before. I was sitting at a stoplight and tossed my phone, let out a few expletives and began my fight with denial. I made it to my parents’ house and my Mom, she knew immediately I was not in a good way. I cried. I bawled. In the way that mothers do, she held me and asked me what was wrong, almost angrily at wanting to know what or who caused me this much pain.
“I lost Phil.”
There’s nothing new under the sun, I know, but this? This is new to me. I had experienced loss of family members, either through old age or tragic circumstances, and even through the grief, there was a sense of understanding, an easier acceptance from the perspective of a grandson or nephew. Finally, at an age where all these years of life and its experiences have earned me wisdom, knowledge, and things of value — this was my first personal loss.
My family moved to Cedar Hill (actually DeSoto but whatever) in Summer 1996. We found a church as well as my new school at Trinity Church in Cedar Hill/Trinity Christian School. After our first Sunday evening service, the youth group went out to the old (now ancient) roller rink for a night of pizza and floor hockey. Sort of a summer bash event before school starts. Admission was $5. Our pastor, Jim Hennesy, fetched Phil since we were both incoming Freshman and basically told him to get me sorted. Frank, Phil’s dad, took us both to the roller rink and dropped us off. However, Phil forgot to get cash and well I spotted him that $5. Whatever, no big deal I’m just trying to find my place in this new church and school. I’d eventually go on and develop more friends/circles but Phil was first, and he owed me $5. School starts, we have a few classes together, particularly English Honors, we are both on the football team, and throughout the course of the year we became better friends. He still owed me $5.
We both loved computers and gadgetry, we learned our way through the internet from free AOL discs, to 1-800-Be-A-Geek, convincing our parents to upgrade our modems to get that elusive 56k speed. We played Descent before moving on to Command & Conquer challenging friends to online matches, connecting with school friends over AOL Instant Messenger, we were the epitome of being 90s teenagers making our way through the galaxy of High School. He still owed me $5.
We graduated in the year 2000. The lot of our friends went to Bible college in the Fall. The same lot quit Bible college by Spring. I got a job at Staples Office Supply, and Phil gets a job at the Chick-Fil-A on the same block. In summer 2001, the lot of our friends find ourselves back in Bible college, sort of. We joined Master’s Commission, a three-year discipleship program through our church. Our time would conclude on May 25, 2002. I could spend an entire entry on Phil and I during that time, wow. Phil really loved the church, ministry, and it was during this time that he really delved into sound engineering, etc. He was also a bit of a rebel, because asking Phil to march to a beat that he did not feel particularly compelled to was asking for a confrontation. Needless to say, our collective group of First Years were equally the most effective class of MCers ever in Trinity Church history, and also the most spiteful. None of us returned for Year Two. In fact, my personal motto was “I’m an MC student, not a saint.” — while the rest of us were being spiteful, Phil did a better job of being our advocate. He was not afraid to disagree publicly with our leadership. In a way, he emboldened us to know when to buy in, and when to cash out the inconsistent relational equity that would get poured into us, and then exacted from us doubly. Master’s Commission reflects the reality of church politics, and while Phil, myself, and one other stayed connected in ministry, the others did not. Since we weren’t making any money while in Master’s Commission (because MC took it), Phil had to maintain his debt of $5 to me.
Fast forward through Phil finishing college in Florida, and me finishing college in Dallas, those events were prefaced by the fact he was leaving Texas at all. This is where our lives ceased to intersect, but this is also where our friendship found its roots. Phil sort of knew that Texas wouldn’t be where he would make his stand in this life and that eventually found him back in Florida, back to Texas for a little bit, then finally to Arizona. Phil did not want to stay behind the soundboard, or hang speakers, or design sound stages, he wanted to build ministry around that. He wanted to show people that the production aspect of the modern church was a way to “outdo the rocks” and really get people in touch with God, through intentional, and worshipfully-minded application of the kind of creativity and excellence that a sound engineer can produce. Phil loved worshipping Jesus, and the louder the better.
So we spent our 20s and 30s growing in our chosen professions, in my case growing a family, and one of the times he came back to Texas to visit, I remember telling him that he could never come back here to live. I always told him that I didn’t miss him at all while he was away because I always felt proud of where he was. I told him that he is one of two, maybe three people whose happiness I feel personally invested in, and that coming back to Texas would actually disappoint me because Phil was more than this place needed. When Phil passed away, I read every comment and well-wish that made it across my timeline. I read about people who were impacted by how hard he worked, how hard he worshipped, how committed to the craft he was, these were all people that were incredibly blessed to be within his purpose. These are all things he did on his own, having forged his own path following what he felt was God’s purpose. I don’t see or know these things about Phil because I possess the gift of sage, but because that is who Phil was. Phil was faithful, he was diligent, and he understood the value of excellence. If Faithful, Diligence and Excellence were people, they would seek to be Phil.
Phil had one glaringly obvious flaw though, and that is he never paid me back that $5.
Truthfully, that small debt has probably been paid back over the years, and we’ve even talked about it in jest, but our conclusion was this:
”You know, I’m only your friend because you still owe me $5.”
”I’m okay with that.”
Love your friends, make sure they know it.
The Roller Rink
