Farewell: Dick Lewis

This week a gentleman who attends the church I serve died. His name is Dick Lewis. I haven't known him for very long, but I learned much from him in the short time that I did know him. See, Dick was a man who was cut from a different kind of cloth. While most people say things like, "Everything is possible," Dick had a way of breaking things down systematically in order to realize the possibility. Examples of this can be seen in his excellent career, his motor crossing endeavors after turning 45, and his bevy of golf and shooting awards. I tell you, the man wouldn't just try things, he would approach them with the intent of mastery. I enjoyed visiting with him because each time he would share a different story. It was almost like sitting at a bus stop with Forrest Gump.

Dick had pancreatic cancer. Those who are familiar with this variety of cancer understand that the chances of surviving it are very low. When I learned that this was Dick's diagnosis, and after visiting him a few times, I didn't think it would be long. Against hope I thought, "any day now we will get the sad news." But the news didn't come. In fact, rather than getting worse Dick seemed to be getting better. To be honest, at times I forgot about his cancer. It seemed to me that Dick, the man who dissected everything in order to master them, had mastered pancreatic cancer. 

As I visited with Dick I quickly learned that his favorite season in the church year was Lent. He particularly loved Ash Wednesday service. He told me that although he traveled much he made it a priority to be in church every year for Ash Wednesday and Easter. In fact, a great source of pain for him was that he missed Ash Wednesday in 2014. 

As we prepared for Ash Wednesday in 2015 it seemed only right to have Dick take part in the service. He happily agreed. On the day of the service we had bad weather. I remember calling and telling him that he need not feel any obligation to come to the service if the conditions were bad. He responded, "It is an obligation." You must understand, he didn't mean obligation the way we come to speak of it. He wasn't suggesting that it's something he didn't want to do, but he was going to because it was his duty. No, he was going to be present because it was, to him, a privileged duty. Whether he read or not he was not going to miss another Ash Wednesday service.

That night I had Dick read Psalm 23 for us. Now, I am a bit of a blockhead; I didn't realize that some people may connect Psalm 23 with death. Unfortunately that is where it is primarily heard or seen. Had I been a thinking man I probably would have been sensitive to this and given him a different passage to read. But in hindsight I think God used my ignorance marvelously. 

Now the last words several of us at church heard from Dick were:

I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.

Indeed you will, Dick. I'm grateful for your life, and the legacy you have left for us to ponder and learn from. You will be missed, my friend.

Requiescat in pace.