No! It Can’t Be!

February 15, 2010

I just hung up the phone in shock about 30 seconds ago. Not what I expected to hear when I called my friend Jim. To my stunned surprise, Jim’s mother-in-law told me that Jim passed away last Saturday. I wish I had called last week, but I didn’t. He’s been very sick, but this soon? Unbelievable.

Jim was an amazing guy—a former Navy SEAL, NFL football player, and registered nurse. I met Jim a couple of years ago as I was trying to work out at a local gym. I say “trying to work out” because it had been so long since I had lifted weights that I couldn’t even operate most of the equipment. Jim was a personal trainer there. He saw my feeble attempts to navigate the modern gym, and he came to my aid. Although we were exactly the same age, his 33″ waist, bulging biceps, and broad smile he exhibited when he lifted weights drew a stark contrast between the two of us. I quickly learned that Jim was one of the most passionate and least assuming men I’d ever met. He was full of life and had a fiery commitment for teaching others about health and how to live in a more vibrant way. In a couple of short months he helped me to get into better shape than I’ve been in years. More importantly, he encouraged my heart every time I saw him. He was always up, always happy, optimistic, and interested in others.

About 6 months ago he received the surprising and tragic news that he had advanced liver cancer. Ironic. Health food, no alcohol, a carefully orchestrated vitamin regime, and multiple daily workouts made Jim the picture of health, but obviously pictures can lie.

Jim and I committed to stay in touch as he sought treatment, and we called each other almost weekly, even though I had relocated to another part of the country. With every call, Jim would give me a quick update on his health, usually not a good report, and then he would launch into questions about my daughter, my marriage, my career. Each time he’d say, “I’m prayin’ for you, Paul.” Jim was dying and at the same time he was telling me through his actions that relationships matter, that life is worthwhile.

What an unbelievable spirit left the planet on Saturday. And what a humbling example to see his courageous illustration of what it means to be focused on others even in the darkest of conditions. Jim lived with passion. He loved his life as much as anyone I’ve ever known. The main lessons that I learned from Jim’s life are about living for the benefit of others, about being positive, about walking with courage. I want to be more like Jim. His joy was infectious. Jim’s legacy will be with me the rest of my life. If this blog encourages your heart, even just a little bit, then perhaps you can imagine Jim’s big, gregarious smile, his warm handshake, and the penetrating look from those steel gray eyes that always greeted everyone. If you could smile back, even just a small curl of a smile, it would please him a great deal. Goodbye, friend.