An Absolute Testament to a Friend

This chapel and I are becoming too familiar with each other. I have been here four times in the last five years and all for the same reason; funerals. But that’s what this chapel does, have funerals.

By the time I made my way into the chapel, it was already bursting at the seams with more people than it has ever seen at one time. I should have known that since I had parked three blocks away. I expected Neil’s funeral to be emotional but didn’t expect that it would be so crowded. Crowded is putting it mildly. It was hard to find room to stand. It looked like some of the people had been there way before the noon starting time. As I made my way through the crowd, looking for a seat, I exchanged greetings with many former students, and now good friends from my graduating class of 1992. They were Neil’s classmates. Like me, they had come to say farewell to their friend. Some had come from as far away as California, Colorado and Florida. Others came from Chicago, Milwaukee, Madison and Verona. The Walmart group occupied the rear third of the chapel. It looked like the whole store showed up. I wondered to myself who was running the Janesville store. Walmart loved Neil, too. To see the hundreds and hundreds of people was a genuine and absolute testament to him.

Earlier in my life I thought death was a punishment. My uncles didn’t do much to chase away that notion. Instead they always told my cousins and me stories about ghost and “hants” that scared the wits out of us. To them, it was a “rite of passage” to manhood. I can still remember when my family moved next to the church when I was a young boy. The days when there was a funeral at the church, I was always home before dark because I didn’t want the dead person’s “hant” to get me. Now I have come to understand that it was never about the dead, it is about the people left behind. Death just doesn’t happen. Everything, including death, happens for a reason. Sometime the reason is easy to understand and other times we spend a lifetime trying to understand the “why.” Two nights before the funeral I confessed to a friend that I was having a problem reconciling Neil’s death. But when I looked into the eyes of his one month old son his death was reconciled. In his eyes I saw Neil.

I go to funerals when I have to, but I would rather not. They are emotionally draining, they make my stomach cramp, and by the time it is over, you are left physically exhausted. I grew up in a southern Baptist church where respect was shown to the dead by shouting in the aisles, lots of emotional crying and outburst. Some of which scared the life out of me.

I like the uniqueness of New Orleans jazz funerals. They are also called second lines. The deceased family is the “first line” of mourners along with the jazz band. The “Second Line” is non-family members who came to pay their respect and to help celebrate the life of the deceased. What makes a jazz funeral unique is that on the way to the grave site, the mourners quietly walk to slow, somber songs played by the band. Once the deceased had been buried, a trumpet call rallies everyone to celebrate the life of the deceased and help release his or her soul. The Second Liners step and dance in the street to music from the jazz band. There is some crying on the way to the grave site but afterwards it is a celebration of life. Neil’s funeral wasn’t quite as jubilant, but while sitting there I couldn't help but think about how much he would have liked a jazz funerals.

There was some crying for Neil but people were happy just to have been a part of his life. What was hard was for his friends and family was to say goodbye to him because he was only 36 years old. One friend told me that she was holding his hand when he died. She said that it was easier to watch her mother die than it was for her to let go of Neil. When a young person dies, we ask “Why God?” And leaving a fiancee and two boys under the age of eighteen months makes it even more difficult to understand. When someone old dies, their death is seen as a normal part of the human life cycle.

So many friends took the time to leave messages on is facebook page their feelings:

“I've never felt as human and vulnerable as the day our superman passed over us in the sky a final time. I never thought you could be taken down, but there is a purpose to all this. Carry on your good work my friend; your legacy will always be alive in us. It's our responsibility to you to shine on as you did each ...day. I wish I could've told you, I guess I just did. :)”

“If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven, and bring you home again. Rest in peace my dear friend.”

“….. Thank you Neil for loving my grandsons as your own. My heart aches that your own sons won't have you in their lives. I pray that Beth, your boys and your mother find peace and solace knowing how much you loved them and how you would have stayed if you could. You were too young, my dear. Rest in peace.”

“Neil, you could always make people smile. Your great sense of humor and charm will be missed dearly. I will see you on the other side someday my friend. RIP Neil”

“Rest in peace Neil, You will never be forgotten, Go fly with the Angels...”

“Neil you truly were a wonderful, outgoing person whom everyone cherished all the different reason they had you in their lives and today’s service showed it. It hurts to think about how I’m not gonna get ANOTHER nickname from you or let alone be able to have any conversation with you but I am honored to have had the chance to have a wonderful friend not only in my life but my family’s life also. I am soooo gonna miss you but will see you again someday…Sleep with the angels Neil.”

“We may not see each other anymore, but we'll talk every day. It was a definite honor to have known you and there will never be anyone like you again. Rest Peacefully, Neil.”

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, May looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow. "Those we love don't go away; they walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard, but always near. Still loved, still missed and very dear. Rest in peace Neil.”

“I think the saddest thing is that he has two beautiful baby boys that will only know their daddy thru other people’s memories shared with them. One is 18 months and the other newborn. He was in a coma when the baby was born so never got to see his youngest son.”

“Oh Neil, how we will miss the flying rubber bands, that sometimes didn't quite make it where they were supposed to. The bright red light from the deli gun, from out of nowhere, that told us if we were "hot" or not, or if we needed to go home because we were "sick". Your crazy nicknames for us and yourself, the silly jokes either shared or exchanged over the walkie. Your smile, your laugh, the proud swagger in your step as you walked the floor in your “manager” attire. We will never be able to ring up bananas without thinking of you! There’s also going to be a lot more hairnets in the garbage, instead of other places. I could go on and on and that’s what you will do through us and your family! We thank you for all you shared with us and we are thankful for knowing you! We miss you and we love you and will NEVER forget you!”
“We may not see each other anymore, but we'll talk every day. It was a definite honor to have known you and there will never be anyone like you again. Rest Peacefully, Neil.”

Even though his young age of 35 was on the minds of many, if not all, in the chapel, it was never openly talked about during the service. Instead the funeral service was upbeat; a low key celebration of his life. The talk was about how full he lived life and how much enjoyed his family and fishing. All the speakers had a “Neil story” to share. One classmate said that Neil was always the life of the party and always wanted to make sure that everyone was having a good time. That he would have been proud of the turnout of people that was there, and he would have also been angry that he couldn’t be there. Another student told the story when Neil brought him home to live him when he didn’t have a place to live. And another student told a story about him and Neil leaving a downtown bar after closing one night and Neil stopped to give a homeless group of men twenty dollars. That was the way Neil lived.

He always called me “T” when were alone and “Mr. T” others were around. I met him during student registration in 1988, he was an incoming freshman. He had a cocky demeanor and swagger that were more befitting of a senior. Freshmen were required to come to registration with a parent, but he was sitting alone. He was trying to fill out the registration form when I walked over and said, “I want to meet your parents, and did they come with you?” He looked at me from toe to head. I thought, “He’s sizing me up.” When our eyes did meet, he hesitated for a little, stared at me and said, “My mom’s working, she couldn’t afford to take off. I haven’t seen my dad in years.” I helped finish the form and walked him through the remainder of registration. He had already done his homework on East’s football team. He knew who they had beaten and who they lost to last season. He knew who coach was and wanted to know if he could talk to him. I told him how to get to the boys locker room. When he was leaving, he came to find me to say good bye. I asked him what he and the coach had talked about. He said, “I told him I was going to be the team’s quarterback my junior and senior year.” And he was.

Two years after he graduated high school he went off to college in Minnesota. Before he left, he brought his sister, Samantha to school to meet me. She was a handful; make that two hands full. She was going to be a freshman that fall. He sat her down in my office and told her she was to behave or she would be in big trouble with me. He wanted me to look after her as I did him for four years. He was Sam’s big brother, guardian and father. But Sam was her own woman and pretty much didn’t have any use for school. She was there and then she wasn’t. I later learned that he had come and took her to live with him in Minnesota.

Neil had lupus. It has been known as a “woman’s disease.” Lupus is an autoimmune disease where your immune system tries to destroy the organs in your body. Our body’s immune system is like a security system. It contains several different types of cells which are constantly on patrol looking for foreign invaders. When one is spotted, they try to destroy the invader. With lupus, for some unknown reason, the immune system loses its ability to tell the difference between an invader and our own normal body organs, tissues and cells. In essence, the "Security Guards" identify our good cells as invaders and then try to destroy them. More than 16,000 Americans develop lupus each year. It is estimated that 500,000 to 1.5 million Americans have been diagnosed with lupus. For most people, lupus is a mild disease affecting only a few organs. For others, it may cause serious and even life-threatening problems. For Neil, his immune system affected his kidneys and lungs.

Toward the end of the ceremony it was announced that the family would have a repast at the Eagle Crest Bar and Grill others went to Pooley’s. Putting on my coat I overheard a conversation between a couple students. One student asked the other, “So, what’s a repast?” The other responded, “I think it’s a southern thing.” I butted in and said, “It’s a meal served after a funeral." That it was more common in the south.

Many of us went to the Eagle Crest to be with his family after the funeral. The conversation over beer and food was that this was an evening that he would have been totally into. Everybody did one of his favorite shots as a salute and farewell to him. By the time we arrived at Pooley’s everyone was in a good mood. Some people hadn’t seen each other since graduation and we had a lot of catching up to do since 1992. This class has so much talent and these young 35 year olds are making their mark on the world. I was blown away by some of the things they were doing.
Everyone wanted to know how I was spending my time and if was having fun. I spent four years taking care of this class and tonight this class took care of me.

The Reverend David Hart ended the service with a quote from an unknown author that said:
“The dead don’t die unless we forget them.”

I end with this poem:
You can shed tears that he is gone,

or you can smile because he has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back,

or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him,

or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him only that he is gone,

or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind,

be empty and turn your back.

Or you can do what he'd want,

smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

--David Harkins--