'Tis better to have loved and lost / Than never to have loved at all.
A beautiful line from In Memoriam A.H.H. by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. A poem composed as a tribute to a personal friend who died suddenly at the age of 22. It is a phrase that has come to mind often this week as wave upon wave of sad news hit me.
The week started with the passing of a friend from college, Stacie Hamburger Russell. More than just my friend, she had been best friends since childhood with my dear friend and neighbor, Rochelle. Stacie had valiantly battled pancreatic cancer with grace and grit. The world watched as Patrick Swayze and Steve Jobs battled it. It’s a painful process to watch with an inevitable outcome. I hurt for all she leaves behind: her son, her friends, and her community.
Without even a chance to process, I received the news that one of my closest friends, Norman ‘Jay’ Pingley, died. I’ve known Norm for almost as long as I’ve been in the event business. Of course, we met at a race, likely in his home state of Florida. His personality was larger than life. When he walked into a room, everyone greeted him the same way the fictional Boston bar greeted its favorite regular: "NORM!" He was a giant teddy bear, yet strong as a grizzly. He would give you the shirt off his back and would often take off his pants as well. Everyone I know has a Norm story, likely multiple, and every story can be attributed to Norm's carefree attitude toward others' opinions. Norm wasn’t afraid of being the center of attention, the butt of the joke, or the ill-timed comment to the media about nails on a bike course.
Norm was the backbone of the event industry, the ‘carnie’. He might not get into town when he promised, but he would work his ass off when he was there. More than cones and cades, Norm was an unexpected role model to a lot of guys. He loved his kids so deeply. His pride was palpable in the videos he'd text us — Bud playing lacrosse, Ali Claire shining in everything she did. He showed the world (and new dads) what it meant to show up for his kids.
He walked me through some really dark times during my divorce. He allowed me to lean on him as we shared the pain of heartache. I will never be able to thank him enough for that gift. Thank you, Norm, for pulling me through to the other side.
The timing of my writing is tragically ironic. The last time I published was 7 years ago as I reflected on the passing of my uncle, Lou Wattigny (read ‘Drained’ here). He was so many things to me: a role model, a hero, a big brother. This week rounded out with the anniversary of his death. I miss him dearly and wish that I could call him during tough times or just to shoot the shit.
As I wipe away the tears, I am left with these thoughts. We are promised nothing. Love him or hate him, Coach Nick Saban gave a great 1:35 second speech on this subject The Importance of Nothing - Coach Nick Saban. We aren’t promised tomorrow. So don't put off until 'later' — you may never get it. Chase the dream. Share your feelings. Push fear aside to do the thing you’ve been thinking about. Check on your friends. Most importantly, love deeply and tell those around you ‘I love you’.