Saying Goodbye

I met Rob when we were two of half a dozen second-graders put into a first/second grade "split" classroom at Morrison Elementary school in Fort Smith, Arkansas, in 1979.

Me: Gentlemanly haircut courtesy my barber grandfather; second to the end on the left in the back row of kids.
Actually, Rob's hair is not unsimilar. He's 2nd to the end on the right, same row.

When we were seven years old, 46 sounded old. So very old. Even older than our parents! Of course, at the time, we had zero thoughts of what our lives might look like after school, after families... it all seemed like much MUCH later. Too much later even to consider.

Since Morrison only had one of each grade, we were in school together. Our little sisters were best friends. Our parents were in the PTA together. We spent a lot of time in the same space until we started junior high, at which point I went to a private school and then we moved across the river, one town over. Coincidentally, Rob's family moved to Van Buren the summer before we started high school, and once again, we were in school together.

We had some mutual friends, and a couple of my good friends dated Rob. But mostly, we were in separate social circles throughout high school. Rob was in ROTC and ended up serving in the Navy. He got married the year after we graduated, and and next time I heard from him, it was thanks to the internet.

I don't remember whether it was Yahoo! or AOL, but I remember chatting with Rob when he was living in Hawaii and I was in Las Vegas. It made the world feel extremely small. Two kids from small-town Arkansas had made their ways across the country and were still very far apart, but able to catch up in real time over a computer screen whenever it was convenient.

Later, we became friends on Facebook. Rob and his growing family had moved to the Austin area. I was living in North Texas. And, as you know, I ended up in Austin, as well.

James and I went to the Hayeses' for dinner once shortly after we got here. It was long enough ago that D was still hanging out and went with us, spending the entire night playing Minecraft with Rob's older child, Mak. Even though we were in the same basic metro area, it was almost an hour from the Nuthaus to Rob and Sarah's.

We invited them down once, but Rob got a migraine so just Sarah and Peyton, their younger daughter, came. Sarah told me about Austin's moonlight towers, which gave me something fun to research downtown. It's pretty cool history, and I was glad to know about them.

Later, we moved WAY further south, then, almost two years ago, we moved to a tiny town about 6 minutes from Rob and Sarah's house. We kept talking about getting together. Sometimes, when they'd visit "our" park to kayak, Sarah would ping me on Instagram, but I never noticed in a timely manner.

But today, after having grown up neighbors, lived all over the place, and once again being neighbors in a totally different place, I saw Rob. I wish I hadn't.

Because 46 doesn't seem so old anymore. It's downright youthful, isn't it? And it's much, much too young to say goodbye to a spouse.

Hearing so many people speak of Sarah today inspired me on a couple of levels.

For one thing, I tried to pinpoint the first memory I have of her. You know what it was? That she showed up at prom my junior year with a senior who was probably the first guy I was ever truly in love with. I thought he and I had all the same friends, but I'd never seen Sarah before. Then that was basically all I remember until, right around her graduation (which was the year after mine), Sarah and Rob got married. Babies in love.

Sarah had a history with cancer. You can (and should, really) hear about it from her in this video she made four years ago. When we had dinner with them, she spoke about some of her experiences... but not much. Mostly, we talked about family and our common histories and jobs and normal "grown-up" stuff. She had an easy, hospitable way.

And everyone who spoke at her funeral today spoke of being loved, and seeing Sarah love others so tangibly. Rob's aunt said that, having known Sarah since shortly after the wedding, she'd never seen her raise her voice or say a mean word about anyone. Now, I realize no one is perfect and likely Sarah did both of these things at some point, but no one who knows me could say that about me... on any given single day of my life, honestly.

So the other way I was inspired by Sarah's funeral was just to be better. To live a joyful, hopeful, outward-facing life that will leave everyone I touch better off than before they knew me. My track record so far is not great.

As Rob and the girls try to figure out a new way to live, I am confident that the love and goodwill Sarah put out into the world will enfold the family. He joked today (yes, he spoke at his wife's funeral) about how Sarah was basically The Energizer Bunny and that he certainly couldn't have stopped her... but I hope he knows the person he is, and the partner he was, gave her the space to do the things she did. I wish every possible ease and comfort for the whole family. And I'm grateful I got to know Sarah, if only briefly and somewhat distantly. Rest in peace.