Friday the August 2nd my friend Nancy died, and Wednesday August 7th my friend Bob died.

Bob and I weren’t the kind of friends that hung out together, we didn’t know each other outside of work. He was my manager for some months when I was an underwriter, and we were fellow managers, along with several other really wonderful people, for several years, long, long ago.

He was a great manager and those of us that got to work for or with him were lucky. He was always smiling, always supportive, always wise, always engaged. When you were talking with him he was fully talking with you. He noticed little things, did little things, appreciated little things.

He was one of those people that made going to work fun.

Eventually he moved on to another company and I didn’t really stay in touch. Then along came social media — Facebook, blogging. And that’s how we kept track of each other over the years. Not a lot, he’d comment on something I posted on FB. I’d note that he was in NYC during his beloved US Open Tennis Championships, or visiting London where he lived as a child.

About a year ago I noticed someone asking him, on FB, if he was in NYC for the tennis matches. He replied that no, not this time because one side effect of the new chemo pill he was on was fatigue, and he was really tired. Chemo pill?? I messaged him to apologize that I had somehow missed the fact he was taking chemo. He replied that he had slipped up by letting that out on FB.

He’d been sick for a couple of years. Stage 4 now.

But amazingly he was so optimistic, so joyful. He was still working, he was doing well. His wife and family were wonderful. His son was getting married in September of 2024. He was sure he’d be around for the wedding.

So since then, periodically I’d check in with him, always on FB messenger, he’d always reply that things were good, he was a little more tired, but he was good. In January he took a medical leave, and told me he was declining and probably wouldn’t ever go back to work. But that was OK, he said, because it gave him more time with his wife and sons.

He felt really lucky that he had that time. He loved his family so much.

We didn’t talk every day, but whenever we messaged back and forth I would end up smiling. He was so supportive, even as he was needing more support himself. He was so wise and had such good advice on my every day problems. I will miss having him there to bounce frustrations off. He always made me feel better. In fact at the end of one series of messages a few months ago he ended with “Don’t worry, you’re doing better than you think.”

That was Bob.

Below is his very first message about the cancer to me, describing his approach to his illness. It made me smile though my eyes were misty. One of Bob’s gifts to so many of us was helping us smile even in the tough times.

“I’m really A-OK. I remember reading with interest your posts about your dear aunt in her last few months. I was sick by then and sensed something was up. Loved how she went out on her terms and LIVED right to the end. I got great inspiration from her through you! I’ve become an avid vicarious traveler these past few months in particular. Your adventures I read with rapt excitement! Your trip to Canada with Beth…I was tempted to hop in the car and go to a bagpipe concert near a lighthouse! And your sadness and grief when you lost Katie and all the thrill and energy and excitement of Penny…I was right there! …. So, that’s my tale of woe, but truly not woeful. In fact, I’m more happy and more ‘chill’ than I’ve ever been. I’ve had a great run. I’m having a great time, and I don’t give much thought to the circumstances.”

Saturday, at the funeral home, I looked around at the room packed with people, all telling Bob stories. And here’s the thing. I didn’t have a unique relationship with Bob. He was a caring, supportive, gentle, inspiring friend with everyone. He had a positive influence on everyone. He made us all, each of us individually, feel special. And we were all, each of us, lucky to have known him.

Apparently Bob’s employer had a thing called “Random Acts of Bob” based on the way Bob did nice, random, things for people all the time. I think, in Bob’s honor, those of us that knew and loved him should make a point of continuing his tradition. And if all of you who weren’t lucky enough to know him want to join in, well, I think that would make Bob smile.

Isn’t it amazing how one person can create a whole world of smiles just by being himself. It’s going to take a lot of us smiling a whole lot to even begin to fill the void he left. But I think it’s worth trying.

When I got back from the funeral home Saturday evening and changed into my regular clothes I noticed the shoes I had been wearing.

Just one more smile from my friend Bob.

I’m sure going to miss you.