Rod Smith – I’ll miss you

Written by on April 3, 2009 in The Healing Journey with 0 Comments

Yesterday I learned of a dear friend’s passing away. My heart was filled with sadness all day, but tonight, it’s anger that wakes me up.

This is a man I had met in the early 90’s. He gave me assistance and friendship. He never asked anything of me. He was never anything less than a gentleman and a true friend.

Rodney Smith

I met Rod Smith at a business where I used to pick up work for data entry. I was a single mom, my two oldest were young kids, and I was homeschooling them. I often brought them in with me. Sometimes he’d be in the office working on their computer system. We’d say hello.

One day he overheard me tell an employee my keyboard had broken, and he immediately offered me one. He wouldn’t take money for it, saying he often had spare parts and he was happy to help.

He said he respected me for what I was doing – homeschooling and providing for my children. Rod put together a computer for me, gave me software I needed to promote my music, and most precious of all, he gave me a true friendship.

Since Rod never took money from me, I’d sometimes have lunch ready for him when he came over to work on my computer. More often than not, we just had tea and conversation.

Rod listened with full attention. He enjoyed hearing about my dreams for my music, my desire for peace in this world, the steps I took to contribute in my own small way. He supported me not only with the computer tools he provided me with, but encouragement and insight.

We also talked about personal stuff, relationships, heartache and hope. He blessed me with his insights. He gave me lots of wonderful advice that I never followed. But he was patient and unconditional in his acceptance and respect for me as a person and the path I chose to walk.

He was working on a software that would be a big help to businesses. I was working on a CD and dreamt of one day dancing on the Great Wall of China.

Rod believed I could do it.

Over the years, we saw less and less of each other, as life and its demands made our paths cross fewer times. But we kept in touch, even irregularly, and even as long periods of time went by.

Too much time went by. And then yesterday I learned it was too late for me to ever hear his voice again.

And tonight, I wake up in the middle of the night, angry. Angry at myself for letting him slip away from me like that. Why didn’t I call him sooner? Why did I let so much time go by?

Angry at the nature of reality for taking him. I wonder why beautiful people like Rod, like my sister, like so many others who have so much to give have their lives cut short, and some others who do nothing but take and inflict suffering live to ripe old ages?

It’s not always like this, I know. But tonight, it feels like it is.

I don’t understand. I had come to a place where I don’t need to. But not tonight. Tonight, my heart rails against the injustice, the unfairness of it all and it demands to know why.

I understand life isn’t fair. But tonight, I don’t care. I want it to be fair. The emptiness in my heart, the pain that opens like a great chasm wants it to be filled with fairness and truth and justice. Tonight I want to understand, I want to know there’s some meaning to all this, some purpose that will finally make sense.

But the only light I see tonight is this cold gray light from my computer screen, and the only thing I understand at this moment, is that I will miss my friend for a very, very long time.

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About the Author

About the Author: Demian Yumei, author, singer/songwriter and artist activist, uses spoken, written word and original songs in her human rights activism. "For the Sake of Love” is her collection of songs written on Demian's healing journey, and “Little Yellow Pear Tomatoes” is a children’s book she wrote for her daughter about the interconnectedness of life published by Illumination Arts and endorsed by Jane Goodall. Currently, Demian is working on recording episodes for her podcast and writing on the "Where There's Smoke Series on Covert Abuse". .

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