The Most Important Thing

Originally published Feb. 25, 2013

I’m not sure I can explain that title.

It came to me as I was thinking about a funeral, or really, a wake that we attended this weekend.

It was for a good friend, and it was almost too much to think about that he would no longer be there. I was sad for my own loss, but I was heartbroken thinking about his family, especially his wonderful wife who adored him.

I was thinking about how sudden it was. I mean, we had just been planning dinner. I still had his last email in my inbox — waiting for a response.

I was thinking about why it shook me: no more email, no chatter, no jokes, no goofy videos. (One of my favorites was Jay Leno interviewing the woman who performed CPR on a chicken. It lived.)

I would miss his droll wit, his absolutely perfect use of expletives –timed and punctuated for maximum effect (usually hilarity, although sometimes used in admiration). I would miss his laughter. He loved to laugh.

I already miss his support. He would make me feel like I had the world in my grasp. And I would believe him, too, because he was that kind of guy. I felt loved; he was that generous, so generous I now believe everyone who knew him felt that.

So at the wake, we all laughed until we cried. We laughed at his old jokes, his long stories, his vast interests in even the most obscure things (Laser egg art?) and his belief that he was surrounded by the most interesting people in the world.

And in those few moments, we were. He had, once again, transformed us all.