What can't be said
Didn't know him. Not at all. Never met him probably, although he might have been in a classroom sometime long ago when I visited his high school. I didn't know his wife or his family either, nor had I ever met them that I know of. But he was just a kid, too young to die.
His obit is so lovingly written that I could only hope to do it that well myself. It picks up incidentals, little things, and lifts them, like communion bread, to something almost eternal, something approaching pure music. It's perfectly beautiful.
It says he played soccer in high school and college, was a star, in fact. Says he loved the Packers. Says he and his father were rebuilding an old late '60s GTO out in the machine shed. Says that when he wasn't helping people with their insurance needs, he was always doing something, often enough tuned into a golden oldie station he loved.
