Beloved Friend

How do I put into words what James means to me... meant to me? This is something I struggled with from the moment I found out that he would not be returning to Milwaukee alive. When I was told that he had died in Sedona, my reply was, "this has to be some kind of fucking joke... right?" Sadly, it was not. But understand that shock doesn't even begin to express what I was feeling that morning - that instant when the words of his death rocked the very foundations of my soul. I cannot convey adequately the immediate imbalance in my soul, but to say I felt very much like a massive tectonic shift had occurred under my feet - so fused together me and my brother had become.

James was my singular Beloved Friend. Aside from my wife and my kids, my mother and father - but rising above my very own flesh and blood brothers and sisters, James was my Beloved Sibling. And here again, words fail. He and I just were. Before his death, I would try to communicate our relationship to others by saying that we did not need to speak to communicate. We did not have to discuss to reconcile what the other was thinking or planning. We just knew. We were as happy sitting in the same room without sharing as much as a word as we were sharing sentiments on this or that. That is to say that so well did we know one another - so deep was our affection for one another - that it very much sufficed for us to simply occupy the same space and time together. I have had many friends. I have had many good friends. I have had the blessing of many great friends over the years. James was none of those. He was very much someone very different to me.

Here is the truth of the depth of pain and sorrow I feel: to me it feels like someone ripped out my heart. Yet, this is an understatement. Should I say it feels like someone has taken a dull machete to my soul? I could, but that also would fail to convey the reality of it. I am at a loss for the loss. Because it is not possible to convey to anyone who did not know him as I did precisely what we are talking about here. His absence. One who comes to know him through all of these testimonies about who he was in life feel as if they missed out for having never known him. And this is surely true. He was robbed from them as well. How much greater is the loss to the very few that knew him as I did? Again, I cannot convey it.

As for who James was in life. HA! This is also impossible to convey... potentially more difficult than communicating what he meant in life to me... and how vast the void is now that he is not present in my life!

James was an INCREDIBLY UNIQUE HUMAN BEING. Complicated on the one hand, a veritable Zen Master on the other. A warrior who loved Peace. A philosopher who laughed at philosophy. A scientist who laughed at scientists. A Renaissance Man who appreciated the Middle Ages is when the most progress was made. A Holy Man who was well aware he was a sinner and hypocrite. A student who loved to teach and excelled at it. A peerless advocate. A formidable foe. A gentle man with the ability to vanquish with but a word. A sardonic man who was brutally honest and an incredibly capable communicator. A man who appreciated Truth first and foremost, hated equivocation, hated moral relativism, detested liars, cheats, thieves, distortions, ignorance, greed, pride, envy... yet appreciated that each was on his own journey and at a distinct stage in his life path. He was not of this world at all - though incredibly pragmatic. A true strategist. A commander. A hero.

He is, at the end of it, truly a one-of-a-kind SOUL. A tireless seeker. Full of life, dreams, hopes. A work in progress when most remain on the inventory shelf.

I loved him very, very much. Because he loved me for who I am. And never, ever placed unnecessary or needy expectations on me or anyone else he met. And really, isn't that the telltale of authentic love? Unconditional, authentic love. That is what James was.

I refuse, in the end, to reduce him to words. It is folly to attempt it. And James wouldn't tolerate it in any event.