While the world watched and tweeted about the Super Bowl the Edder and I huddled up with Milo in shock and grief. Moments after arriving at a Super Bowl party, ready for fun and festivities, I got that phone call no one EVER wants to get.
Someone you care about, someone who has been incredibly important in your life, is gone. I stood in the corner of our friends’ house on the phone listening to my best friend tell me my therapist was killed in a car accident. Along with his wife, and his precious service dog. It’s one of those surreal moments. I just stood there. I couldn’t even hear my friend’s voice anymore, I have no idea what else she said. We were both in shock.
Finally I found my bearings, found the Edder… and lost it. In front of a houseful of people. We left immediately. The news hit me HARD.
My therapist and counselor of seven years. The man who helped me learn to navigate my life and my depression. The one who saw the absolute worst of me, who knew the worst of me, who knew my deepest darkest secrets, who knew all the ugly, the shortcomings, the deep pain and burdens in my life. The one who also knew the deepest desires of my heart, my goals, my dreams, my goodness, my pure intent and hopes to thrive… he cared for and helped me despite all my problems. Is gone.
My question is this. How do you navigate the grief for someone you turned to, to help you navigate all your grief? And struggles and hardships? I don’t know where to start. But I know I am not alone in my grief, my therapist was very well-known in town. He was an incredible person. But no. That doesn’t even cover the kind of person he was. He was outstanding, the kind of man every person should aspire to be, in my opinion.
I have no words. I’m still in shock. As I know so many… an incredible amount of people in this town, are. I think his funeral will be the most attended one this city has ever seen.
The good news is that he is now in a whole body, in heaven, happy and no longer limited to the confines of a wheelchair and the pains of this world. And I don’t mean that as a cliché, in any way shape or form. This is coming from deep in my heart.
You were so loved and appreciated Randy. We love you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for the Edder and I. You changed our lives for the better in innumerable ways. We were so blessed and fortunate to have had you in our lives. We are going to miss you so incredibly much.
My health is a tribute to the fruit of Randy’s life. Generations to come will be blessed by the work he did.