No one has made me feel as if I have any unmet obligations, but I do feel a great sense of ownership in how I participate in the community and, as such, it is my desire to offer an explanation as to why I have been missing so much this school year.


It may not be the most epic tale you’ve ever read, but this is one of my personal favorite memories in recent years: I’d like to tell you a story about Josh.


--


Imagine a young man of extreme intelligence with a great propensity for technology, a strong desire to remain indoors and away from nature, and a rather acrimonious relationship with sports and athletics. Several years ago, I was an avid disc golfer and you may imagine my surprise when such an individual asked if I would be willing to take him with me to the course so that he could try the sport out for himself.


It was in the middle of August and what little humidity we experience annually in Lubbock had found us all at once on a triple digit afternoon as we ferreted around the disc golf course at Texas Tech. Captivated, I watched as, again and again, Josh planted the heels of his thick, leather work boots into the untrimmed St. Augustine of Urbanovsky Park and heaved a glorified frisbee, which flew through the air with all the grace of a construction grade brick. Upon his figure he wore heavy, oversized ca



No one has made me feel as if I have any unmet obligations, but I do feel a great sense of ownership in how I participate in the community and, as such, it is my desire to offer an explanation as to why I have been missing so much this school year.


It may not be the most epic tale you’ve ever read, but this is one of my personal favorite memories in recent years: I’d like to tell you a story about Josh.


Imagine a young man of extreme intelligence with a great propensity for technology, a strong desire to remain indoors and away from nature, and a rather acrimonious relationship with sports and athletics. Several years ago, I was an avid disc golfer and you may imagine my surprise when such an individual asked if I would be willing to take him with me to the course so that he could try the sport out for himself.


It was in the middle of August and what little humidity we experience annually in Lubbock had found us all at once on a triple digit afternoon as we ferreted around the disc golf course at Texas Tech. Captivated, I watched as, again and again, Josh planted the heels of his thick, leather work boots into the untrimmed St. Augustine of Urbanovsky Park and heaved a glorified frisbee, which flew through the air with all the grace of a construction grade brick. Upon his figure he wore heavy, oversized carpenter jeans and no fewer than two outer shirts; It was a typical outfit for him in the office but, as one of the smartest people I have ever met, I imagined he would have better prepared himself for our outing. I was wrong.


By the 5th hole I had been given a vocabulary lesson covering each and every very special word that Josh knew (and unabashedly used) as he cursed the weather in his sweat-drenched attire. Hair plastered to his face, with each step those tread soled boots seemed to become heavier and heavier. As he continued to lash the Summer heat with his words, I had finally heard him complain one too many times about his clothes sticking to him and I said something to the effect of, “My brother in Christ, you dressed yourself before leaving the house.”


There stood Josh. A man who would be emperor of his world, Caesar of all he surveyed to this point, now betrayed by the sun, the sky, and even the laws of physics themselves. His searing gaze upon me, I would have been his last ally in this lake of fire, but as those words left my mouth they landed like so many daggers. He looked at me only as if to say, “You too, Brutus?”


We survived the course and parted ways. The next morning I received a message from him in which he said two things; One, that his feet were in immense pain, and two, that our round of disc golf was the most fun he’d had in a long time.


In October of last year, Josh was diagnosed with stage four metastatic colon cancer. Two weeks ago I had gone to see him in the hospital and things were not looking great. I put my hand on his shoulder as he lay in a half-conscious state and told him that I loved him, and that I would be back tomorrow. The next day at 10:55 AM, with his mother by his side, Josh was gone. I arrived at his room four minutes later.


Genuine. Like nothing you have ever seen. That is who my best friend was.


You would be hard pressed to find anyone more generous with their time, more passionate about their pursuit of excellence, or more caring for their family.


He often experienced back pain and had a distaste for the heat like you would not believe, but he invited himself to play disc golf with me anyway because he wanted to share in something that I, his friend, enjoyed. Though he awoke in pain the next day, the only regret he had was that he had to stop at the 9th hole and we were unable to play the full 18. Everyone should be so lucky as to have a friend like Josh.


I am 36 years old, and somehow I have been fortunate enough to never have lost anyone close to me until now. As such, this is a new experience for me. I had always wondered how I would feel when the time came and, now that it is upon me, I must admit that I am still figuring it out. Eight years is far too short a time to have spent with the brother that I chose, but certainly it is eight years more than many are ever blessed with.


The pain in my heart today is the price for such a gift. I pay it gladly.


There is no greater way that I know to honor him than to live by the standard we always held each other to; To always be honest, to be recklessly generous, and to leave it better than you found it. Josh left me better than he found me, and I will make him proud. The world could not have asked for a better man, nor I a better friend.


While the loss of my best friend is only one of so many struggles I have faced in the last 12 months, it is far and away the most painful and confusing. To oversimplify it, I have been gone because I have so many important matters to attend to and, if we can be honest with each other, my spirit is broken. I have been absent from games, concerts, performances, plays, board meetings, recognitions, and community events. Believe me when I say that I do miss you all very much. Though I am not in need of sympathy, I am immensely grateful for your understanding as I help my friend and his family move onto the next chapter.


The world around us has quickly fallen apart in so many ways, but today if you still are able to hold those whom you love then you are indeed wealthy beyond words. If you have never lost someone you love, you are greatly blessed and, if/when the day comes that you face great loss, please know that it’s okay to not be okay.


When I will return to my work as a volunteer of Lubbock-Cooper ISD is uncertain, but--as always--my love and support are yours. I remain your biggest fan.

rpenter jeans and no fewer than two outer shirts; It was a typical outfit for him in the office but, as one of the smartest people I have ever met, I imagined he would have better prepared himself for our outing. I was wrong.


By the 5th hole I had been given a vocabulary lesson covering each and every very special word that Josh knew (and unabashedly used) as he cursed the weather in his sweat-drenched attire. Hair plastered to his face, with each step those tread soled boots seemed to become heavier and heavier. As he continued to lash the Summer heat with his words, I had finally heard him complain one too many times about his clothes sticking to him and I said something to the effect of, “My brother in Christ, you dressed yourself before leaving the house.”


There stood Josh. A man who would be emperor of his world, Caesar of all he surveyed to this point, now betrayed by the sun, the sky, and even the laws of physics themselves. His searing gaze upon me, I would have been his last ally in this lake of fire, but as those words left my mouth they landed like so many daggers. He looked at me only as if to say, “You too, Brutus?”


We survived the course and parted ways. The next morning I received a message from him in which he said two things; One, that his feet were in immense pain, and two, that our round of disc golf was the most fun he’d had in a long time.


In October of last year, Josh was diagnosed with stage four metastatic colon cancer. Two weeks ago I had gone to see him in the hospital and things were not looking great. I put my hand on his shoulder as he lay in a half-conscious state and told him that I loved him, and that I would be back tomorrow. The next day at 10:55 AM, with his mother by his side, Josh was gone. I arrived at his room four minutes later.


Genuine. Like nothing you have ever seen. That is who my best friend was.


You would be hard pressed to find anyone more generous with their time, more passionate about their pursuit of excellence, or more caring for their family.


He often experienced back pain and had a distaste for the heat like you would not believe, but he invited himself to play disc golf with me anyway because he wanted to share in something that I, his friend, enjoyed. Though he awoke in pain the next day, the only regret he had was that he had to stop at the 9th hole and we were unable to play the full 18. Everyone should be so lucky as to have a friend like Josh.


I am 36 years old, and somehow I have been fortunate enough to never have lost anyone close to me until now. As such, this is a new experience for me. I had always wondered how I would feel when the time came and, now that it is upon me, I must admit that I am still figuring it out. Eight years is far too short a time to have spent with the brother that I chose, but certainly it is eight years more than many are ever blessed with.


The pain in my heart today is the price for such a gift. I pay it gladly.


There is no greater way that I know to honor him than to live by the standard we always held each other to; To always be honest, to be recklessly generous, and to leave it better than you found it. Josh left me better than he found me, and I will make him proud. The world could not have asked for a better man, nor I a better friend.


While the loss of my best friend is only one of so many struggles I have faced in the last 12 months, it is far and away the most painful and confusing. To oversimplify it, I have been gone because I have so many important matters to attend to and, if we can be honest with each other, my spirit is broken. I have been absent from games, concerts, performances, plays, board meetings, recognitions, and community events. Believe me when I say that I do miss you all very much. Though I am not in need of sympathy, I am immensely grateful for your understanding as I help my friend and his family move onto the next chapter.


The world around us has quickly fallen apart in so many ways, but today if you still are able to hold those whom you love then you are indeed wealthy beyond words. If you have never lost someone you love, you are greatly blessed and, if/when the day comes that you face great loss, please know that it’s okay to not be okay.


When I will return to my work as a volunteer of Lubbock-Cooper ISD is uncertain, but--as always--my love and support are yours. I remain your biggest fan.