Dale Wilson, I will never forget him...

When someone passes tragically and without any kind of warning the shock you see in the stricken faces around you is almost too wretched to bear. The weight on your heart seems to press the air out of your lungs and in between shallow breaths, the reality seeps in as the blur from your tears takes over your sight.

On Tuesday around 10:30 PM I got a call that Dale Wilson, someone that I worked with in So. San Francisco, left work on Tuesday night, headed to the gym and collapsed on the treadmill. He didn't make it. The last time that I saw Dale was on December 20, my last day with the company. He planned, arranged and picked-up my going-away lunch from Max's. I went to his desk to thank him for planning the whole thing and to let him know how much I had enjoyed working with him in particular. He gave me a huge bear hug that really took me by surprise then he got a little misty and asked me if I was leaving right then. I told him that I was actually going to be around a bit to help here and there, but not on a regular basis. He grinned and said "Oh, so this isn't goodbye, then. Good." Other than a few work-related issues, those were basically our last words to each other. If I had known I wouldn’t speak with him again, I would have told him how much I really admired him and how much fun it was to work with him.

Difficult doesn't begin to decribe trying to imagine how things will be without him. I went into the office the day after I got the news, and you could still feel him in the office. He left for work that day, like any other. His navy fleece jacket was still on the back of his chair, his notes were everywhere and the feel of "Dale" was still all over his corner. I was thinking about how it must be unfathomable for the office to seem normal, ever again. If you really think about it, you spend more awake-time with the people you work with than your family. This office is like a family - absolutely like a family. And they are mourning like one. My already heavy heart ached all the more as I stepped into their grief. Dale was an integral part of the office - he was the glue.

As for myself, I am still shocked. The night after I found out, I had a dream that we were misinformed. I dreamt that we got to the office and were told that Dale was really OK, but he was in the hospital. We got to the hospital and there was Dale - telling us that he was just fine and not to worry. I woke-up with the sense that he was fine and that it was all a big mistake.

Many times I thought that Dale was so "cute." And by that I meant that his personality was so gentle, caring and yet powerful that he reminded me of my dad. There was something about Dale that made you feel like you could trust him with your life. I knew Dale for just under a year, but in that time, I took away my own window into his life. Here is what he will always be to me:
- Fun to play pranks on.
- Someone with an excellent sense of humor.
- Kind-hearted.
- A proud father.
- The beaming best man for his son's upcoming wedding.
- Someone who took pride in his work.
- The guy who called me Heidi for wearing my hair in messy buns.
- Someone who took all of the Moosejaw jibes we gave him.
- Someone who left grammatically-incorrect notes. :)
- The biggest Giant's fan I have ever met.
- Really into baseball. Period.
- Protective of those he loves.
- A strong leader in the office.
- The Little League Coach with a cute glint in his eyes.
- Someone who was at Candlestick when the '89 Earthquake hit.
- Definitely someone who spoke softly, but carried a big stick.
- Someone who didn't carry anger with him.
- A deeply sentimental man.
- A great man with a sense of duty.
- Someone with an admirable work-ethic.
- Fiercely loyal.

While this is really sad for me, it's even harder for his family. He leaves his newly-engaged son and daughter behind. I know he was very close to his children. Please pray that his family and friends find strength and peace through Christ. I know everyone touched by Dale feels as I do - fortunate to have ever known him. He will never be forgotten.

So, it is with a heavy heart that I end week one of 2007.