the painter man: may he rest in peace

this am i got home from a trip where i visited wonderful sister b & my old friend donna & was told that our dear friend dennis died last night at around 11 pm. dennis had been to prison several times, said his middle name used to be "failure to appear" because of the length & nature of his rap sheet, lived on top of the silver fox bar for a while, but in the past 10 yrs had completely turned his life around. his new middle name, he said, was "willing to go to any length," & he lived that way. he had been reunited with family. he backed up his words with action. he was well-loved & respected in the local fellowship. he was hard-working, a jokester, a friend, someone who always had a funny, kind word for all, a guy head to toe sincere. "has anybody told you they loved you today?" was his most common greeting to men & women alike, accompanied by a cheshire-like grin & a hug. he always sat by the door at the oildale sunday morning spiritual meeting, &, in what surprised me in such a gruff-seeming guy, would loudly sing perfect harmony during "happy birthday." when i helmed the local roundup last spring, we asked him to lead the saturday night speaker mtg & a woman at this morning's mtg remembered, "he showed up wearing his shades & a flashy purple jacket & i thought, 'is that dennis, or dr johnny fever?' he cleaned up real nice."
dennis's dear buddy jimmy called brian & gave him the news last night at 11 pm as he drove up to fresno, where the accident had happened. jimmy was on his way up to bring home dennis's friend kathleen, who was on dennis's painting crew, saw the accident happen, saw dennis draw his last breath at the hospital (the story is so moving & full of so many "coincidences," but kathleen is the one to tell it, not me). when i got the news this am, through my tears i asked brian what jimmy & kathleen were doing now & he said, matter-of-factly, "they're on their way to the meeting." so in the truck we got & off we went, too.
dennis told kathleen, when his own father was dying & he was there every step of the way, "this is what we do." meaning that we take action, do the next indicated step, do the right thing, even & maybe especially even when it's tough.
dennis, dear friend, dear "painter man," as brian called you, we miss you already. you walked it like you talked it, died doing what you loved, surrounded by family & friends who loved & admired you. from a hopeless & incomprehensibly demoralized drunk, you had become a happy, productive, successful member of society who helped so many to find hope & have the courage to keep trying. we should all leave this earth & be fortunate enough to have lived like dennis did.