For Rob

Robert Glass was the sort of friend you could call at all hours and he'd be there, perhaps even if he had to hop a plane or cross an icy gorge.  If we're lucky, we may meet a half dozen of these type of folks in a lifetime.  Making and keeping solid friendships is so damned hard anymore.   Even some of those golden souls we shared so many quality moments with back in the day turn into strangers later in life.  Just the way it is.  But not Rob.  He was also the sort you could lose contact with for a year or two or five and then reunite and pick right back up where you left off.  

I met Rob(bie) sometime during late high school in my church youth group.  We had an immediate rapport, and I was struck by his maturity.  Then and for the rest of his days he was always ready for a deep conversation.  Even a quick exchange with him was weightier than the usual "How ya doin'?".  He possessed a wisdom that was rare, one that he always shared but never in a pretentious way.  He  riveted attention toward you and made you feel important, even if a stream of others were shuffling by.  The pastor at his funeral a few weeks back described his "Hollywood smile that made you feel like a million bucks."

In the '90s we were part of a group that regularly hung out at Respectables, a downtown club, and several restaurants.  Went to lots of concerts and movies, including STAR WARS EPISODE II, which we trekked to Orlando for as it was one of the first theaters to present a movie in digital.   Rob and I on our own also met for countless breakfasts and lunches over the years.  He was usually the one to reach out and ask how I was doing, always concerned about my well being.  A few years back he picked my brain for audiology knowledge and I think my info. was helpful.

Rob passed away on February 28th at the far too young age of fifty-three.   I learned of it on the Facebook page of a mutual friend, one I haven't seen in over twenty years.   She moved to Jacksonville some time ago.   I had also sung with her in the choir and she and another friend once pranked me by building a bird nest on the hood of my car.   When I read her tribute I felt my breath escape.  Thick sense of denial that I still harbor somewhat.  It just doesn't seem possible.  

I am especially troubled that a man who was such a positive force in the world, a social worker with a wife and two young daughters, was taken away so soon.  Someone who gave so much.  Yet a smorgasbord of scumbags remain here on Earth, healthy and even thriving.  Doesn't make sense.   I had had these feelings when my dear friends Amy and Chris departed in 2022.  We've all had such experiences with those who've passed but this one seems like a huge celestial mistake, if you will.  But as Rob's wife Becky remarked (before she and her daughters broke down in tears) at the service, "God's timing is not ours."  Agreed, but that doesn't make it any easier or even comforting in the moment.  Rob was a man of unwavering Christian faith and there is some assurance in that for those of us left behind.

Yes, Robert Glass was never afraid to share that faith.  He was not some obnoxious Bible thumper who cleared rooms.  His love for God was genuine and his words reflected a peace.  His life a picture of true Christianity.  He would not judge or argue with non-believers.  His spirit was gentle and his intellect keen.  The funeral service unsurprisingly played before a full sanctuary.  A very diverse crowd that was a testament to his openness to those in all strata.  The service was in my old church, one in which I worshipped for about thirty years.  Being there after so long (we left in 2004, revisiting maybe twice since) was a strange experience, but it still felt like home.  In part because of countless memories of Rob sitting with us in its pews or singing with us up in the choir loft. 

Catch you later, old friend.