A moment of silence
Something strange and sad happened recently. A former coworker called to give me the news, an old boss of mine had been found dead of a self-inflicted gun wound. I hate the idea of suicide. I can’t believe the type of distress a person must be in to think that this is a good solution. I don’t want to think of anyone feeling so much pain.
He was a very, very talented man. Smart, charismatic, brash. Like many talented people he was promoted out of the illustration job he loved, and spent the rest of his career as an account manager and department head. One day he could be kind and generous. Another day might find your-little-stunned-bunny-self in the path of his Mack truck-sized rage. I have a hunch he was never taught how to deal with his anger in productive or straight forward ways. Often, if you were caught in this tempest, you weren’t the original cause of anger, but a sideways scape goat. He was talented and difficult, with mercurial moods and a sometimes raging temper, but I learned a tremendous amount from him in the 9 years that I worked for him.
He seemed to be searching for something. In his mid-fifties, he seemed unsure as to how he had gotten to where he was. Divorced twice and with a struggling business and going back to the heavy drinking he had avoided for so long, one wonders if he was unable to ask for the help he needed, didn’t want to seem a failure.
The saddest part of all are the four children he leaves behind.
His funeral is this morning. I’ll take a moment of silence and listen to one of his podcasts from a couple of years ago.
This reminds me of so many meetings held in his office. It is a perfect picture of his profanity and his humanity.
I’ve never meant this more than I do now, please rest in peace.
He was a very, very talented man. Smart, charismatic, brash. Like many talented people he was promoted out of the illustration job he loved, and spent the rest of his career as an account manager and department head. One day he could be kind and generous. Another day might find your-little-stunned-bunny-self in the path of his Mack truck-sized rage. I have a hunch he was never taught how to deal with his anger in productive or straight forward ways. Often, if you were caught in this tempest, you weren’t the original cause of anger, but a sideways scape goat. He was talented and difficult, with mercurial moods and a sometimes raging temper, but I learned a tremendous amount from him in the 9 years that I worked for him.
He seemed to be searching for something. In his mid-fifties, he seemed unsure as to how he had gotten to where he was. Divorced twice and with a struggling business and going back to the heavy drinking he had avoided for so long, one wonders if he was unable to ask for the help he needed, didn’t want to seem a failure.
The saddest part of all are the four children he leaves behind.
His funeral is this morning. I’ll take a moment of silence and listen to one of his podcasts from a couple of years ago.
This reminds me of so many meetings held in his office. It is a perfect picture of his profanity and his humanity.
I’ve never meant this more than I do now, please rest in peace.
