Remembering My Friend

Last night at 6:50 p.m. my friend Randal L. Dills finished his struggle with cancer and peacefully went home. Randy spent his last days surrounded by those who loved him. His sisters, his brother, and his children were there, taking turns during the night watches. Early one evening his sister, Margie, suggested they should try to close there eyes and get some rest. He had scarcely closed his eyes and another friend came to visit. The next time it was suggested that he should close his eyes to rest, he responded in his witty way that he had better not, because it draws visitors. I don't know how many friends came through his room there in the oncology ward, but on one of my later visits after he was put on the "Bi-Pak" (a mask that covered his mouth and nose and forced breaths of concentrated oxygen), he wrote, albeit in very shaky hand, "I've got a room full of people. He, He!" Randy was certainly a people person, and people loved him.

He had gift for making people laugh. In fact, he could just be telling about things that had happened to him. He didn't have to make things up because the truth was just funny the way he told it. For instance, back when Randy was working on our delivery team at the furniture store, when the truck pulled up to a house with dog, he would say to his partner, "hey, it's your turn to be dog biscuit."

Oh, yes, there were tears last night. I saw a daughter's tears as she sat by his bedside, and a brother's tears as he shared the news on his cell phone. I saw a son's tears, in his mother's embrace, and witnessed tears wiped from a sister's face. No one there had to shed their tears alone, for I know I felt the warmth of tears that were my own.

Still, if you could measure the laughter and the tears, you would discover that the joy of remembering outweighed our tears many times over. Sure life is full of ups and downs, but somehow my friend found the secret of finding the humor in everything. So, when I remember Randy, it won't with an image of suffering, nor with thoughts of the devastation of disease, but with joy and laughter, I'll be remembering my friend.

Finally, Randy was ready. He made preparation for everything, even though it seemed he had so little time. He made the funeral arrangements, choosing his pall bearers asking me to do the eulogy. He contacted his friend, Hubert, and had his Will notarized. He talked with God, and made his salvation sure. Randy was Ready. Yes, I certainly have good reason for joy as I remember my friend. This is not the end. It's the beginning because we have the hope of seeing him again.