Today I said goodbye to Phil. He’s in a palliative care unit at a local hospital not far from where he spent a good part of his adult life. Where he raised his family, contributed to his community and faith and lived his life quietly and without assumption. As I write this, Phil lies in his last bed with his pillow from home, waiting for his good life to run its course. He’s surrounded by his world; a devoted wife and loving children. Phil is dying very much like he lived, quietly, privately and with great dignity. You see Phil, like the vast majority of us on this planet, isn’t extraordinary in populist terms, he isn’t going to be remembered in history books, and nobody’s going to hoist a statue of Phil in some park or name a school after him. Phil is just a regular guy. A decent human being who lived his life in a way that suggested he believed that love was a lifelong commitment, that family came first and work was something you did well but not at the expense of others. It seemed as well, by the life he lived, that he believed that contentment and steadfastness was more important and meaningful than excitement, and that the true measure and worth of a person was in what they did and not what they said. Phil treated everyone with respect and he sought to walk softly among us.
Plain and simple, without reservation or caveat, Phil was a good guy … a real good guy.
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