But everything can change so rapidly, in the blink of an eye. Martha was talking to her Daddy on Saturday night a little after 7:00 p.m., finding out about his day. It had been a good one for him, too, taking his King Midget to Town twice (pictured below with his friend Bill) - visiting with his fellow lovers of old cars on the Loafer's Bench on Main Street - and now he was sitting in his favorite chair watching NASCAR on television. And then suddenly he stopped talking, and just like that he was gone. "Out, out, brief candle."
The rest of the evening was a blur - the frantic dash to Town, the blue and red lights flashing in the dark, the EMTs there in less than five minutes working as hard as they could to bring him back - but Martha knew in her heart that he was already gone. His 86th birthday would have been September 16, and now there is a large void left where this decent and gentle man used to be, his wonderful sense of humor, his devotion to his family and his church. We miss him so very much!
But he always insisted after all that he was living on borrowed time; his own father, a Methodist minister, had died in his sleep at the age of 51 of a heart attack. And surely this is the way he wanted to leave this world, with absolutely no suffering and no pain, as if God had tapped him gently on the shoulder and led him away in a moment when he was supremely happy. Immediately after his death, the house was filled with an astonishing outpouring of love and support for Jane and the family. He was buried on Wednesday, a sunny and unseasonably warm day, family and friends filling First Presbyterian Church and then gathering at beautiful Highlands Memorial Park to celebrate a life well-lived.
And I will miss him, too. I ran hard yesterday, and although he was not a runner he was with me every step of my run. And now he has crossed the final finish line.
Rest in peace, Alan Lewis.
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