ANDY

"Uncle Andy,

are you going to join Uncle Don

and the ancestors

in the Spirit World?”

He was seven.

Andy and I were helping him

get ready to dance

in the Wacipi (Pow-wow).

It was a private moment

with a captive audience.

He had obviously heard

the adults in his world

talk about

how sick his friend was,

so

he decided

to check it out

for himself.

His question

echoed a conversation

Andy and I had

just hours earlier.

We had been sitting outside,

after dinner,

reading

the local reservation paper.

Their obituary page,

titled

“Journeys to the Spirit World,”

had been passed over by Andy,

who thought it was merely

recollections

of summer visits

to out of state relatives...

you know,

“Last Sunday,

Jeff and Lily White traveled

to Ainsworth

and were guests

of her Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Harry

at their palatial hog farm…”

Only when I commented

there were too many

'young people'

in the obits

did Andy realize

what section he ‘skipped’.

He laughingly remarked

maybe

it had been

'unconsciously' done.

Then he went on,

saying how comforting

the Lakota concept of death

was for him...

viewing it simply

as

part of your journey,

an adventure,

with beloved friends

waiting for you

at the other end.

We both knew

it would be his last trip

to the reservation.

He told me in confidence,

during our drive out to South Dakota,

that his cancer had returned

with a vengeance;

his prognosis was bleak.

There would be no reprieve;

no magic drug

to buy him

more time.

He was living with the knowledge

that he was living

the last few weeks

of his life.

So Alan’s question to him,

literally,

made me catch my breath.

Yet Andy didn’t hesitate or falter;

he lovingly and quietly

responded,

“Yes, I am;

but not tonight.

Tonight

I’m going to watch you dance.

Tonight

I’m going to enjoy

listening to the drums,

seeing you move

and

watching

a beautiful sunset.

Tonight

I’m going to just enjoy

being here.”

It’s one of the qualities I’ve loved about Andy;

his ability,

intent

and deep desire

to be fully present

in whatever moment

he’s in.

Andy is a man whose presence in my life

has reminded me

there are good men in the world –

and, trust me,

in my line of work

I have desperately

needed

that reminder.

We shared the same home state,

maniacal driving habits,

political inclinations,

spiritual beliefs

and

sense of mission.

yes, we had matching T-shirts for our road trips!!

Andy loved words,

was a skilled,

and thoughtful,

diplomat

and, on more than one occasion,

(OK, on more than one dozen occasions)

over the years,

has acted as my interpreter

and defender,

saying

“what she really meant to say was…”

Those of you who know me only from work

will probably find it hard to believe

I let anyone else speak for me…

but Andy could,

did

and,

more often than not,

got it right.

Andy was so many things:

an actor, singer, artist,

brilliant Creative Director,

Emmy winner,

story teller,

humorist,

loving father,

husband,

brother

and

spiritual friend

to so many.

Andy has been one of my closest friends for over 20 years.

He died today;

and,

while I’m glad he’s been delivered

from his pain,

my heart aches

for his family

and for all of us

who loved him

and

were lucky enough

to call him

‘friend’.

my point is,

there are a lot of people in the world.

no one ever sees everything the same
way you do;

it just doesn't happen.

so when you find one person

who gets a couple of things,
especially if they're important ones...

you might as well hold on to them.

you know?"
— Sarah Dessen

My dear friend,

you will be sorely missed.
The party wouldn't have been the same

without you.

I'll always hold onto the memories.

Goodbye,

for now.

I love you.