Special remembrance of one so dear marks seven years on September 16th. I want to share him with some of you.
He was about 6’3” but seemed taller since he actually stood up straight, he played as hard as he worked, which as a rough neck in the oilfield was pretty tough going if that gives you a clue. His greeting to me was “Hola muy bonita Madre mia.” He even had the greeting drawn onto a napkin which I had framed and it is still displayed in the room he used during visits.
He had a ready laugh, rarely met a stranger and forgave easily. Yes, he made mistakes, paid for them, learned from them, repeated some of them, and did not blame others for those mistakes or make excuses for them. He was also a flirt and interested in just about every female that had a pulse. However, to my knowledge he only proposed to one and she is still a dear FB friend to me. He also had a quick wit and some really clear thoughts about life and living. Here are two of my favorites: 1) Secrets kill people. They are like a cancer that eats you up from the inside. 2) People only know what they know and they make up the rest.
He enjoyed cooking for family and friends. Whether we were together at his home or ours, he would often say: “Mom, let’s go tear up the kitchen” or “You want to go tear up the kitchen?” which meant let’s cook something to eat, try a new recipe or create something new. I still use his breakfast casserole recipe regularly. He won a prize for a hamburger stuffed with a thin pork chop, cheese and peppers. He was underage and entered using his brother’s name. His brother still has and uses the barbeque utensil set. The night before the accident he called for a recipe which is/was so Eric.
His creative talents included his hair color as well: red, green, purple, yellow and blonde. He had beautiful brown eyes but for a few years he wore green tinted contacts. He said that he was the only one in the family with brown eyes and he wanted a change. He looked just as handsome with green eyes as with brown.
Unlike many men, he was not afraid to express his love of family to others in public. When he would come to my office at the bank, his greeting sometimes included his picking me up to give me a big hug which of course include the same wonderful expected greeting.
He was always so weight conscious. There were a couple of years where he called himself the “Michelin Man”. Back in 1992 during a four month period he went from a 36x32 to 32x36 jean and for most of adult life was 34x36. He dressed well and had a favorite striped shirt that my youngest sister and I both repaired more than once. I have special memories associated with the shirts that I kept and will eventually get around to having them remade into shirts for me. I just could not bear to have some of them worn by others.
We always had some interesting conversations and I talked with him regularly. However, the last month of life came some that, looking back, were almost foreboding such as:
Where he wanted to be buried, how he would die(which proved correct), life insurance beneficiary and why, special phone call thanking me for everything that I had done for him, the late night “sitting on the floor” truly straight talk about his life, life choices, reduction in future home visits and why, burying him in what he called “court clothes”, and even a narrow slide into heaven tied to his belief that life was to be experienced at full capacity and not to waste a minute of the whatever time he might be allotted. In fact, he wanted his body to be worn out from living life.
In his 27 years 5 days with us, he chose to live life rather than exist in life. He loved his family, friends and had a sincere appreciation for all life had to offer and he truly did want to experience all of it. He invited everyone into his life and had a difficult time saying “no”.
Life happens, Eric happened and I am the better for it.
