Life’s Too Short.
A friend of the family passed away this morning. He was actually a friend of Chris’ parents first, but has a very special place in all of our hearts.
According to the email from his wife:
He wasn’t quiet yesterday afternoon and managed to muster all his strength to shout loud and clear: BE ENTHUSIASTIC.
If you knew him, you’d completely understand how very much in character that was.
I have been lucky enough to know Dr. Linneman for more than ten years. We had quite the auspicious beginning, he and I. My husband shared a letter with me this morning that he wrote to our friend’s wife, and I asked if it was okay if I passed along part of it on the blog. He said sure, so here it is:
There’s one story which epitomizes your husband’s influence on those around him, and which I’m not certain he ever heard. It was a Friday night at Jug Hollow Road and I had convinced Kelly to come out and meet my parents. It being Friday, I knew you’d be there, and I assured Kelly that you were great, just like family, and that she had nothing to be concerned about. She was still concerned.
When we arrived, true to form, you were in the one orange chair, my mom in the other, and my dad was on one of the black chairs. Kelly was very nervous, and turned down the offer of a drink because her Baptist background made it difficult to reconcile “drinking” and “parent,” even though you were all clearly working on a cocktail. Frankly, she could have used the drink.
Unfortunately, on this particular Friday something happened which I can safely say was rare, if not unheard of. Slowly others began to arrive - Aunt Diane, Noha and a friend, Jay, and maybe some others.
Soon she was surrounded by conversation between family and friends with a long history, very little of which she knew or understood. Kelly was decidedly unhappy about the situation, and was feeling quite out of place.
When your husband arrived, being the polite Southern girl, she offered to sit on the floor and did so, over his protestations. Seeing her on the floor, this lanky, balding seventy-something year old said to her “that looks comfortable, I think I’ll join you,” folded up his legs, and plunked himself down right next to her.
It was a very small gesture, and very typical Bob Linneman, but it made her feel at ease. More importantly, it converted what could have been a disastrous evening to a delightful one. Frankly, I don’t think it’s too much to say that the cornerstone for Kelly’s wonderful relationship with my parents was in some ways laid with that one small gesture.
He’s right, you know. I was so worried about making a good impression. I was, after all, the new girlfriend. And the old girlfriend had been around awhile. And with that simple act, sitting down beside me on the floor that day, I felt at home. I did actually get that glass of wine that I had initially turned down and I had a lovely evening chatting with Chris’ parents, family and friends.
Never underestimate the power of the little things. They can mean everything.
May 24th, 2007 at 5:33 pm
This is a wonderful letter. It is a true blessing when these people come into our lives and touch us without even realizing it, just by being themselves. I’m sure his wife will find great comfort in your husband’s tribute to hers.
May 25th, 2007 at 8:57 am
That is a wonderful story and I am sure his wife will appreciate this letter just as much as you appreciated his kind gesture.
So sorry for your loss!