Lighthouse

Last night, at ten o'clock in the evening, my beloved friend David died.

And while the details regarding how he died are irrelevant, what certainly matters to me, as well as to every person he touched, is how he lived his short but triumphant life.

He was such a good listener. Whenever you talked to David, with his one trademark raised eyebrow, you not only got the sense that he was listening adamantly to every word you said, but he was actually analyzing each and every voice inflection for shear maximum effect. Of course, then he would tell you what he was really thinking.

And when he spoke...!!

When he spoke, you always, always, always knew that you were never going to get anything less than the god's honest truth--even if you didn't want to hear it. David had a knack for detecting a lame excuse, a white lie, a pure lie and a half truth when he heard one. Honestly? The man had the Best B.S. Detector. Ever.

But he was also one of the most compassionate men I've ever met. When my dog was sick, a few years back, he gave me a number to call for sick Malteses. And eventually, when my puppy did pass away, he came up to me with these sad eyes, gave me a hug and said one thing: "I'm so sorry, baby."

"I'm so sorry, baby."

Yes, David was gay. And everyone knew it. He wasn't shy about it, but he wasn't that flamboyant either. And yet, the fact that he was gay never seemed to bother anyone--not even those skeptical of homosexuality. As cliché as this is to say, to know David was to love him. Simple as that. The loveliness of David the Man outshined any bigotry or hatred anyone might have had toward his particular lifestyle. To everyone, he was just...David.

And it is David--a partner for one, a co-worker to many, and a friend to all--that will be missed long after his untimely passing, last night. David, an avid lover of lighthouses, may have been the proudest man I ever met, but what I think everyone who ever had the privilege of knowing him would agree on is just how proud they are to have known him.

We all have beautiful memories of David. For some, it's the memory of traveling down the interstate with him, singing along to Dido's song, "White Flag." For others, it's taking a trip to Chicago with him and discovering parts of yourself that you never knew existed before. For others still, it's the memory of mall walking with him and just being bathed in his wise, warm and soulful presence and just...talking.

For me, one of my fondest memories--one of my last memories, actually--is when he walked by my desk and, out of the blue, stopped, looked at me and said the following words that will haunt me for many days, months and years to come: "I'm so proud of the person you've become."

To that, I wish I had given him the reply that just finally popped into my head only moments ago: I couldn't have done it without you, buddy. I couldn't have done it without you.

God, I'm gonna miss you, David.

We all are.

You truly were our lighthouse.