Someone I knew and liked died last week. His name was Nathan. I’m not writing for sympathy or to prompt the perfunctory “sorry for your loss” comments that grief seems to elicit these days. That human, AI-esque response akin to “have a nice day,” that has become habit, accompanied by the praying hands emoji doesn’t have context here. We were casual friends, both writers with similar backgrounds and interests. I was in his outer circle, a peripheral player with occasional intersection in person and on social media. I’m not even sure what I’m feeling is grief, but there’s a wrenching pit in my gut that twists toward sadness.

I enjoyed talking to Nathan. I liked reading his work and discussing writing. He asked thoughtful questions and listened with athletic ears. He had a genuine smile, a robust laugh. The sphere that he touched through being an English professor at Carteret Community College and overall cool dude dimmed upon his exit. If a life well lived is defined by being missed, then, well done, Nathan. It won’t be the same around here without you.

There will be memorial services, one in his hometown and another in the town he made home. There will be a gathering at the college. I suspect all will fill to standing room only. Friends and family will exchange stories and hugs. Students might testify how he changed their lives. Colleagues will stand to offer anecdotes. Tears will roll. Scripture will be read and there will be music. Clergy who loved Nathan may offer words of comfort and encouragement. Many will wonder why this happened. People will circle up, shoring one another. Nathan was a person of faith and I hope abiding love will offer a balm to those he held most close.

In a text thread, writer friends chatted about crafting a tribute to Nathan with the possibility of starting a remembrance scholarship to Carteret Writers his honor. My bet is that many things such as this will be constructed and erected in his memory.

As is custom people will probably plant trees and send flowers and make casseroles – performing the actions that ease the restless discomfort of the permanence that separates the dead from those who remain.

As for me, today I gathered flowers from my garden and put them in a small glass vase and I wrote some words. Small gestures of happiness which is how I saw Nathan – as someone who got that life’s joy was contained in the delicate, yet demonstrative art of exploring and living, in the description of the human experience, in where you placed the commas, in what you created and how you helped others do the same. Nathan forged a way with a flashlight for himself, circling back with a lantern for those who followed.

For today, I’m sending purposeful light along my path which is the best way I know to place-hold space in our world in a moment when it seems that only the good die young.

Nathan, I’m glad I knew you. I liked you, man. You will be missed.