I got the word from my son in the form of a forwarded email, one of his groomsmen's father had passed away from the debilitating effects of VHL, Von Hippel-Lindau disease. This particular groomsman has been my son's friend since cub scouts at least and it was through cub scouts that I met his father.
When the Akela of my son's cub scout patrol moved to Alaska, I found myself with those duties. The parents got together and decided to rotate the meetings into each of their houses with different activities and different adults planning them. At my house, one time we made rope, useful for belts, straps, or just practicing knots. Another time we made homemade ice cream with a challenge to the boys to be the last churner. Working for the ice cream always used to make it taste better. At this father's house, the patrol made bridges.
He was an engineer with a calm demeanor, unruffled voice, and an easy laugh. He and his wife raised two boys. The oldest continues to be my son's friend and groomsman.
It turned out that I read the email wrong. Somehow when I read the date for the Memorial Service, I associated it with the viewing. This meant that when I showed up for the viewing, I was 24 hours too late and just over four hours too late for the service. He was my age.
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