Why?

There aren't any satisfying answers. Life is fragile and it can be short; too short. Randy was a character. I've known him for 15 years. He and I and our buddy, Chuck, were business partners for that time. Randy could drive you absolutely crazy but the next minute he was the sweetest guy on earth. I think Chuck broke a few cell phones in frustration dealing with Randy, but they were as close as brothers. Chuck always took care of Randy. I remember Randy ticking me off so bad that I didn't talk to him for a month. But then he would come around and it was like nothing had ever happened. He would sweet talk Gailyn. He could be a charmer like that. When he and I would have a dust-up and he wanted to make things good between us again, he would call to discuss a computer question. No mention made of the original disagreement. That was his way. It always worked - even when we would disagree on the computer solution.

Don't get the impression that Randy was a bad guy or anything. He loved to help out, but you had to let him help you out in his way. And his way was usually in a way you didn't want it done. Not that his way was wrong. Sometimes he did such a good job that from then on customers wanted it done the way Randy did it. So that is more of tribute to him. But he was so focused on his way that "screw you, I'm stinkin' Frank Sinatra." Or at least that's what I used to call him when he got like that. We weren't union, but the dock workers and the print guys were. Randy once got a warning letter from the union, because he was so happy to pitch in that they accused him of doing their work. They tried to make him stay behind a yellow line on the dock from then on. Two weeks later, Randy was back with the union workers loading carts. He just did things his way.    

One time, Randy asked Gailyn and me if we wanted his old waterbed. He didn't want it anymore because it hurt his back. If we wanted it, it was ours, it was too much bother to try and sell it. So instead of just bringing it up to Erie with a load, he packed it all in the back of his pickup and drove the 200 mile round trip on a Saturday afternoon - even though I was going to see him on Sunday night at the plant anyway. He did it just because that's how he wanted to do it. That was Randy. He did things the way he wanted to do them.  

Not to go on and on here. This is more therapy for me than any type of a tribute. I'm just asking "why?" He's now gone. There is no comprehending the meaning of it. Randy always wanted to do the whole job. He didn't like doing half a job. He couldn't do it all his way if somebody else was doing part of it. But as the song says, "Who am I to try to judge or explain? But I do have one burning question. Who told you life wasn't worth the fight? They were wrong. They lied. Now you're gone and we cried. It's not like you to walk away in the middle of a song." Take a nap in your truck, maybe, but not to walk away.

See ya' later, Randy.