A Friend Found, A Friend Lost

Today I learned that my dear, dear friend Clay passed away. I am utterly grief stricken. Even though he passed away almost two years ago I just found out about it today and it's almost too much to bear. Clay was one of those people that come into your life if you're really, really lucky. We met while organizing the Vacation Bible School at St. Matthias Lutheran Church, and when I first shook his hand I fully believed I'd just met Santa Claus. He had a long, white beard that could be tucked into his pants, and his eyes crinkled in that amazingly kind way that Santa would surely have had. I was at once smitten.

We had a friendship that remained constant even when we didn't see each other. I fully expected him to show up on my doorstep someday unannounced because that was what he did. He didn't like to talk on the phone, didn't use a computer, and rarely wrote, but to show up and walk into the house without knocking after a year or two would have been totally normal.

Clay was a mover, a biker, a walker, a thinker, a reader, a philosopher. He traveled the world, visiting Israel, Turkey, and Italy several times while I knew him.  He read extensively - mostly books on philosophy and world religions. He was fascinated with theology. He loved movies. His favorite, funnily enough, was Dirty Dancing. I think he was a romantic at heart. He met his wife when he was 16 and she was 13 and he fell instantly in love and stayed in love with her until she died. I never met her; she died shortly before I met him, but he talked often of his love for her and their five amazing kids.

When Clay was 76 he did a 6009 mile solo bike trip around the U.S. starting in Traveler's Rest South Carolina. He made it into Utah and met the greater part of my family. He returned and could proudly name every single one of my siblings, their spouses, and all of their kids. He also started calling me Jody after that. For those of you that got the chance to meet Clay while he traversed the country, you met an amazing individual. There won't be another quite like him, ever.

He promised he'd come back to haunt me if he died before me. Oh, I wish he would. I'm heartbroken.