By Tom Wilbur 

My heart is broken. Seriously crushed.

I just received word that a very close friend from college took his life last night.

I’m reducing what I can to words—words that will ring insufficient when I read them back later.

But for now, the air is punched out of me. My lungs aren’t fully expanding.

I’m openly weeping. I have lost someone close to me. Frankly, it just sucks.

The whys, and hows, and what fors—are rushing at me like a rolling whitewater stream in early June, as the snow melt ferociously pounds at the river walls and boulders below. I can’t envision what has happened, and I feel it all crashing on my soul. One of those piers I had tethered my life to—a good friend– has let go of the rope, and I’m unleashed, and drifting in waves of self-pity and pain.

DC was one of those guys who always stepped up to help. Always there with a word of kindness or support, when you needed him. Always excited to hear from you. One of those kind of people that when you encountered him, you walked away with more pep in your step, because you knew you were loved. He genuinely cared about everyone.

At KU, we used to play pickup basketball a lot, in the parking lot behind the house. I was the big man. He was my point guard, from Weston, Missouri. I loved it because he would chase down the ball, and fire the ball back to me inside. As late as a few months ago, I called him and asked, “How’s my point guard doing?” and he’d respond, “I’m ready to feed the big fella. What do you need?” And we would laugh, in remembrance of special times, from 40 years ago.

The last time I saw DC, he was dancing with us on New Year’s Eve, at the Bicentennial Center with The Last National Band. Celebrating with us– at our benefit concert for Hospice and Big Brothers. He was with his wife, Mary– and their very close friends, J.V. and Karen. Just like always, he showed up, and we were all happy.

I recently wrote a piece about the “value of the moment”. And right now, I wish I had just a moment to tell him that I love him. He knew that– but, I’d like to say it again. So would most of the guys in my college pledge class, whose lives he touched individually, as well. We’ve been communicating with each other today, to see what is known—trying to reckon with where we might have missed the signals. Second guessing ourselves as to where we were when he really needed our help. Concerned about the potentials, and the possibilities, and dealing with this huge sense of loss.

In the mid-70’s, the songwriter Jackson Browne lost a friend in a fire—a championship ice skater. After that he penned this song, called “For A Dancer”. When Jackson Browne came to KU, Dick and I went to his concert with a group of friends, at Hoch Auditorium. The lyrics of the song are racing through my mind, as I’ve been listening to it over and over– just trying to make sense of it all. I’d like to share Jackson’s lyrics in remembrance of my point guard buddy:

For A Dancer

by Jackson Browne

Keep a fire burning in your eye

Pay attention to the open sky

You never know what will be coming down.

I don’t remember losing track of you

You were always dancing in and out of view

I must have thought you’d always be around

Now you’re nowhere to be found.

 

I don’t know what happens when people die

Can’t seem to grasp it as hard as I try

It’s like a song I can hear playing right in my ear

That I can’t sing, I can’t help listening.

I can’t help feeling stupid standing around

Crying as they ease you down

‘Cause I know that you’d rather we were dancing

Dancing our sorrows away, right on dancing—

 

Just do the steps that you’ve been shown

By everyone you’ve ever known

Until the dance becomes your very own

No matter how close to yours, another’s steps have grown—

In the end there is one dance, you’ll do alone.

 

DC was a dancer. He successfully danced through life with his wife, and kids—and loved his Lord and Savior. He would go on mission trips with his church to help people he had never met. He enjoyed contemporary Christian music, and loved his church—demonstrating the teachings of Christ by his actions. DC walked the walk.

Over the course of the past few years, things had turned challenging for him. There were increasing pressures in life, created by external forces. Yet each time I would speak with him, he was optimistic about today, and tomorrow. He was on his way back. He was just about there, he would say—and no he didn’t need help right now, but thanks.

I don’t know why he chose to do what he did. I can’t pretend to understand. But, for whatever reason, he felt that this world would be better off without him today. Unfortunately, it’s not. It’s not even close. The world is aching in its loss—because the life of this someone, who truly made a difference in the lives of others– no longer dances.

We will bury him in a couple of days. And I will cry, yet again, for the loss of my friend— and wonder what I might have done to help him. And that’s where the agony of it all lies. Yet, I will never forget him. He will be in my heart. And I will do my best to be there for his family, when they need me.

God bless you, DC.

I know you can hear me. May you rest peacefully.

I love you, bro.

Tom Wilbur is a regular contributor to The Salina Post, and a graduate of the University of Kansas. He can be reached at rockchalktw@hotmail.com