Goodbye, friend

What can you say about someone whose life ended so suddenly, so much earlier than ever imagined? What can you say if that same person was the one that nearly every guy wanted to be, every girl wanted to be with, and every parent wished their child was like him? What can you say about someone who was your best friend through high school, but the same could be said by any number of people who thought he was their best friend too? How can you answer the unanswerable question of why?

The first memories I have of Tad are from grade school, when he and I would walk after school to the local convenience store after shaking down our schoolteacher mothers for quarters to pump into Choplifter and Arkanoid. There were many Friday nights spent at his parent’s house, coming up with who knows what to entertain ourselves. One weekend we decided that we were going to defeat Strider, so we stayed up until well into the morning playing it, finally accomplishing our goal. I don’t think that I’ve ever played it since. Al, Tad’s dad, remembered us being rather adamant about building a campfire in the middle of a brush pile. Yeah, we might not have been the smartest kids in the world at the time.

As we moved into junior high and high school, Tad was still Tad. He excelled in everything and made it look pretty effortless. About the time we were freshman, I started attending the youth group at the church Tad’s family went to (because of a girl, not because of Tad). I always looked forward to Sunday nights of being around him. He was as comfortable and congenial with the uncool kids as he was with the popular kids.

As we progressed through high school it became apparent that he and I were contending for valedictorian and salutatorian. As with most things, he beat me and graduated as the valedictorian. I couldn’t hate him for it though. I never could. The thing that I loved most about Tad was that you could never be upset with what he accomplished because he never rubbed it in your face. Well, unless you failed spectacularly, then he would taunt you mercilessly. We were guys after all. Tad was always respectful when he won (which was often), and gracious when he lost, though it obviously tore him up inside.

Tad was an animal on the football field. Those of us who shared a locker room with him saw the transformation he made from the calm, happy-go-lucky, free spirit to the snarling wrecking ball. I read a story that said Tad always enjoyed hitting the opposing ball-carrier, then trying to get in his head by saying, “Good run, way to go”, then helping the player up. What Tad apparently left out of that story was that those of us who were linemen in front of him usually bore the brunt of his hit, then were left to fend for ourselves while he helped the opposition off the turf. I can remember several times where I felt a helmet hit me squarely in the back and didn’t have to turn around to know who was wearing it.

Tad was the gold standard of Caldwell. He was the measuring stick that we were all held up to academically, athletically, and morally. Maybe that was unfair to him. Maybe we told him too often how much we loved him. Maybe we put too much pressure on him to continue to be the best.

Did Tad make mistakes? Absolutely he did. When he did so, he admitted it and took what was coming.

I lost contact with Tad after he was a groomsman in my wedding. I hadn’t really talked to him in about 13 years. That bothers me more than just a little. I wish that I had one last chance to say how much he meant to me growing up. I’m probably not the only one to wish that. My friend Mick said it best today, that there will be waves of friends at Tad’s funeral: those who grew up with him, those who met him at college, those who knew him from medical school, those he found on his travels. I’m honored to be in that first group, to be one of the ones that knew him when he was forming. From what I can gather, the Tad that we knew and loved was the same Tad that collected so many other friends.

Al and Turi, I am so sorry for your loss. You both are dear to me from my experiences with you at church and you will always hold a special place in my heart. You should be proud of what Tad accomplished in his life. Visiting with you today seemed like 15 years ago all over again. I admire your firm foundation, your strength in the Lord. Tad was truly the product of loving, dedicated parents.

Tad, you have been a great friend to many, a personal friend to me, and a great example to all of us. I love you, I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you again. I pray that you’ve found peace that escaped you in this life. Goodbye, friend.