“For though they may be parted…”
Dateline: Sorrow
“The song is ended but the melody lingers on…”
– Irving Berlin
God, chose for me to be a writer, and not a talker, he chose for me the solitude of the keyboard, and not the spotlight of the stage.
And this morning I blessed myself and thanked him for his wisdom in that choice because no matter how strong I am, no matter how strong he would like me to be, I do not have the strength to say the following words out loud:
My friend, Ken Cook, died last night.
He was 68.
A heart attack got him.
That is all I can get myself to write about his passing, I lost a brother in souls last night, so I will not write a word more about his death, I will though write about his life.
In times like this, write not about the loss, write only of the gain brought to earth by those we love.
We love
“…there is still a chance that they will see…”
Those who know facts at B.A.S.S. will stick a bunch of them on this site about Ken…I won’t.
I will tell you things about my friend that even Google doesn’t know.
“You’re good db, you’re good…keep coming, that’s it. Keep coming, no problem…”
BANG.
My friend Ken once helped, directed, watched me back up my RV into the side of a house.
Me: “Ken what was that…Ken…Ken…Ken….”
And as every great friend who backs you up into the side of a house does…he was gone.
In a restaurant once, I think it was in my hometown of Buffalo, N.Y., Ken was across from me at the table, Tammy his wife was next to me, I had turned to Tammy and was saying something when I heard…
“NO! I don’t want no sour cream…”
Ken was looking at me.
The waitress was looking at me.
“db, why in the world would I eat sour cream?”
“Dude, it’s not really sour it’s just like cream that grew up or something.”
“Nope.”
The next morning when he launched in the tournament stuck on his seat was a coupon for Sour Cream.
Great friends do that.
“…there will be an answer…”
I have found magic all over America, none more so than at a place somewhere in Oklahoma called, Tarbone Ranch.
My wife Barb and I spent a few days on Ken and Tammy’s ranch in Oklahoma, we are city folk, they are not.
Ken introduced two people from Buffalo, N.Y., to a real live herd of Buffalo, I cannot hear the song lyrics, “Where the Buffalo roam…” and not smile about the ride on the range with Ken.
He took the time to show me prairie dog homes, we chased tumbleweeds on some sort of camo off-road thing, ate the famous Meersburgers.
We hugged, we knuckle bumped, high-fived, and said to each other more than once…“Love ya.”
Brothers from another mother, from another landscape, another sport, but in our hearts…brothers.
Brothers.
“…and when the night is cloudy…”
I’ve read that tears are the Holy Water that God put within all of us, and I take comfort in knowing that with the amount shed for my friend Ken, that he will eternally fish on a holy lake.
I will remember the hugs.
I will remember the laughs.
I will remember the talks.
Brotherhood of the soul.
If Ken saw me today he would just shake his head and say, “…db…db…” and then he would tell me this, tell us all this I think.
He would tell us about the miracles he now knows are miracles for sure:
The miracle of family…he left the sport to be with them…that opens the gates up there.
The miracle of this blue rock in the darkness of space…we search and search but we are the only miracle we’ve found in the universe…to know and cherish that opens the gates up there.
The miracle of Love…hate won’t open the gates.
To Tammy, to Hunter, to Tanner, to Jason and all the family Cook, my buddy Ken, did it right.
There comes to this world of ours messengers, folks who know, or feel, something a bit more than the rest of us…Ken was one of those.
When you pass and those left behind speak more of your life, than your death, when in the midst of great sorrow, smiles break out with remembrances, that is as close to eternal life that we here on this rock will know.
Love is in those smiles, love is in those tears.
And to my friend Ken, I have no idea if the gates above that I know opened for you, will open for me, I have no idea what form we become next, what form love takes, but if I make it look for me…
…my form up there will be the one holding the coupon for Sour Cream.
“…there is still a light that shines on me.”
Let It Be
The Beatles
“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
– Dr. Seuss
Love you brother,
db