But that’s because the cancer had already taken that away when I met you. Although, it wasn’t for several months that I even knew you were sick. You were just my friend that sang in the choir. The friend that always made sure to check on me when I wasn’t feeling well. The friend that always had time to make sure I was doing alright.
All while you were fighting this awful thing with no complaint. That’s why I didn’t know that you could play. You never complained that cancer had taken that away from you. When the cancer took away your solid foods, you took it as a challenge to figure out how to liquefy a steak dinner. When the doctors were worried about the blockage in your intestine, you sent a prayer request to all of us to pray for poop. I replied that I’d never said such a crappy prayer. (Thankfully, you also appreciated my terrible puns.)
Sometimes I felt guilty when you’d offer me encouragement. I was just being whiny about some headache. You were still showing up to choir after your heart had nearly stopped.
But I learned today that you could play guitar. I even got to hear you do it. It was a great surprise to hear you sing again. What a beautiful gift to record CD’s for 14 years for your family. And a wonderful gift to us to get the chance to hear you again as we said goodbye.
Your time with us was far too short. But you certainly touched lives. Thank you, Eric. Your crown is bound to be heavy with all the jewels you’ve earned. But you’ll never complain about the weight.