Death is a weird thing

My wife's Aunt Marie passed away earlier this week. Vigilant readers of my blog may recall the passing of my wife's Grandmother Louise on Christmas day last month.

Marie was Louise's younger sister. Services are today.

All told, there were 9 obituaries in yesterday's local paper. One name jumped out at me and sent the heebie-jeebies down my spine.

Richard C. Emrick
The name means nothing to you. But it was a recent addition to the names that will forever be engraved in my grey matter.

For you see, it was Mr. Emrick who provided me the opportunity to show my girls the honest thing to do when finding something that belongs to someone else -- be it a watch, a laptop, a ring, or money.

After the money I had turned into the police found it's way back to Mr. Emrick, he called to thank me personally. The number he left on my voicemaill was for the local hospital. I figured he must work there.

When I did return his call, I exhaustively had to yell into the phone for him to hear me, but once he figured out who I was, he was the nicest, most gentle soul of a man I could have talked to. His breathing was labored as well, so I know it must have been an effort to make the call in the first place.

Well, it turns out he was not an employee of the hospital. He was a patient. And now, at the age of 64, Mr. Richard C. Emrick is gone.

But the lesson he reminded me of and allowed me to teach to my daughters will live on.

Rock on, Aunt Marie.
Thank you, Mr. Emrick.