Yesterday started like every other Sunday in our lives. We were watching our shows, sipping coffee and savoring pecan kringle. Just as we were to connect on Skype with our son in Denver, I received a text notifying me of the death of dear friend.

It left me speechless for most of the day. The loss affected my ability to corral words into a meaningful and poignant email to inform the rest of the Nitty Gritty Committee.

I lost my power with words.

Yes, the loss of one of our team members has shocked me to the core. Perhaps because last year we spent four months meeting every two weeks to plan and prepare our 40th class reunion. I was so happy to have him as part of our team. He knew so may people and had connections the rest of the us on the team did not.

For a time, several years, I wouldn’t see him. Our lives (filled with raising children) kept us missing each other. When we would run into each other, it was like that length of time had stood still for us, those years mere seconds in the scheme of time.

The loss of that brilliant and sincere smile no longer finding me in the grocery store, or calling me to tell me which classmate he ran into that day, leaves me feeling lost and empty.

His family was his greatest accomplishment outside tending to the spiritual needs of his congregation. He cared for all aspects of their lives. He didn’t tell me that, but I knew it, because I knew the type of person her was. He wouldn’t have given less than all of himself. My heart is feeling this loss as well; for his family and his congregation need that same compassion now more than ever. I have told his widow to please let me know what I can do to help, and I hope she doesn’t think it a hollow offering. We don’t know each other well, but because he loved her, I hold her in the highest regards.

Now I need to scramble to regain my power with words, because they suddenly seem to have disappeared.

Rest in peace, my friend.

I miss you already.