Good-bye, Stan

I have occasionally dealt with the ultimate transition on this blog.  Most recently, I wrote of the emotions I felt upon visiting Ground Zero this past summer.  A friend not much older than me was killed in an accident a couple of days ago, and it has given me pause in my hectic but healthy and accident-free world.

Stan Klock was a single man who sang in the Southern California Mormon Choir.  He lived a solitary but fairly fulfilling life in the Long Beach area.  I know that he lived quite modestly and also know that his wants and needs were likewise modest.  He tried to take the train whenever he could, and mostly relied on others to take him to SCMC performances.  I did so on a couple of occasions.  He accepted what his life was and never complained.

I also gave him a ride a couple of times to performances in Santa Clarita of the The Master's College Christmas Program which we attended along with a few others from the SCMC.  It was during these rides that I really got to know Stan, and appreciated his goodness.

He always tried to be upbeat.  He always made a big deal out of seeing me at Choir, especially recently when I have not been able to attend consistently.  He never spoke poorly of anyone but really tried to build them up.  Stan always attempted to build me up, telling me what a good singer I was, how I seemed to have my life together, how wise he thought I was, how great I was for helping him.  Stan seemed to humble himself in my presence, which at times I must admit made me feel a little uncomfortable.  

In the future, when I think about Stan, I will picture his interesting face and graying hair.  I will think of standing next to him or near him as we sang together in the bass section.  I will remember his kindness toward me and his desire to be a friend and to connect with me.  Our trips to the concerts in Santa Clarita will stay in my memory.  I will not forget his gentle way, for he indeed was a gentle man.  

I feel a loss and I am sad.  The world is a little bit worse off because he is no longer here.  But I have deep faith that he will find great contentment and joy on the other side.  Thanks for being my friend, Stan.