One year ago tomorrow, March 26, one of my best friends died. He'd been fighting cancer for four years: it started in his colon, then moved into his liver and lungs. When he was first diagnosed, everyone who knew him said, "If anyone can beat it, it's Mike." And I'll say this, Mike fought it with everything he had. He was a fighter from the day he was born until the day he died. I still can't quite get my brain around the notion that he lost that fight, the most important one of all.
Mike was a logger. He was also a husband, a father, a friend and a mentor. But if there was one single thing that Mike was known for and if his soul had its own name, it was Logger. I met him in the woods when I was 19 and it didn't take long for us to become friends. He taught me a lot. I think I use some of his lessons every day, especially when it comes to treating those who work for you fairly and with respect, even when it comes to criticism and discipline.
Mike gave everything he had. His door was always open to his friends, and I know of a lot of people he assisted financially and never expected a penny back from.
I miss him every day, but this week has been a hard one. The day before he died, he had his daughter and my friend Jamie call me on the phone at work. He didn't speak to me--I'm not sure he had the strength. But he did tell her to tell me that he loved me. That's the best gift he could ever have given me. I knew, right before he left this earth, that someone I cared about and had immense respect for cared about me and respected me in return.
Mike, I don't know where you are or if you have any way of knowing, but I miss you so much.