Kent was nine years older than me. An enormous age difference at the time; hardly worth mentioning now. But I think maybe that relatively small age gap was at the heart of why I immediately liked Kent so much when my aunt first started dating him. Kent didn’t treat me like a little kid. He somehow knew how to talk to me at my level, making me feel noticed and that what I had to say mattered.
I never felt judged by Kent. I always felt accepted and welcomed by him, which I especially appreciated when I was a teenager and generally longed for acceptance at every turn.
At barely 15, I was the youngest person in Kent and Linda’s wedding party; the first wedding I had ever been in and the first wedding I remember even attending. I had no idea how to fit in with all the adult wedding attendants. Somehow in the midst of preparing to get married, Kent managed to find time to put me at ease and give me confidence I was doing just fine in a sea of very cool and mature 20-somethings.
Over the years, as my family would gather for various milestones, I was always especially excited to see Kent. In large part because Kent always seemed happy. He was just one of those people that you wanted to be around. He was funny, kind, easy-going, and very quick to smile. Kent’s smile was probably his most distinguishing feature. He smiled big and he smiled often, with prominent rosy cheeks and twinkly eyes like Santa Claus, although Kent’s twinkle had a big dash of fun-spirited mischief in it.
My favorite picture of Kent was taken around Christmas 2005. Rob and I were spending our second winter as Washingtonians, learning how to adjust to frigid temps in the 30s, persistent rain, and the occasional deluge (maybe a quarter-inch) of snow. Transplanted Californians that we were, Rob and I were quite proud of how well we were surviving the harsh elements of Pacific Northwest winters.
In a conversation sometime around Thanksgiving, Rob and I bragged to Kent and Linda that we had learned to winterize our outdoor grill. Meaning we cleaned it and covered it with a tarp until late Spring. Being long-term residents of Nebraska, we were sure Kent and Linda would commend our new skills and welcome us to their Harsh Winter Survival Club.
Instead, our bragging was met with confusion and then laughter.
“What do you mean winterize? You don’t grill in the snow?”
Grill…in the SNOW?!? Were they nuts?!? Rob and I didn’t even grill in the rain! Cloud cover was even iffy. Because a grey day in California is time to pull out the sweaters, break out the hot chocolate, and heat up the crock pot. Grilling is a warm, sunny day activity. Therefore, in Washington, grilling is confined to July and August, and maybe September if the weather gods are feeling charitable.
Soon after our weather worlds collided, this arrived in our email:
We quickly sent back this:
I absolutely adore that picture of Kent. He has his quintessential smile, he’s wearing a goofy snowflake hat, and he’s playfully teasing us how REAL MEN approach winter grilling. The photo was on our fridge for a long time, then got taken down when we reorganized our magnetic photo album. It was put back in a place of honor on our fridge a few days ago.
Last week, on November 15, Kent died. He had been fighting off kidney cancer for a few years and it finally won, as cancer so viciously often does.
I had a chance to see and chat with Kent several times over the past year. It was a shock to see his robust, solid frame reduced to the frailty of 95-year-old. A white beard grew in to cover the once plump rosy cheeks. Through the constant pain, though, the trademark smile remained even if a bit weary.
One of my last conversations with Kent, we were sitting on the stairs inside his house, watching the pre-wedding hubbub for his daughter’s nuptials the next day. We didn’t chit chat for long; we jumped right into the meat of how he was doing.
Kent told me that in a weird way he was grateful for his cancer diagnosis, because it reminded him to focus on the real stuff of life. Cancer made sure he spent lots of time with his cherished family and especially his grandkids. Cancer made sure he went to work when he could because he sincerely enjoyed the people he worked with. Cancer made sure he took trips with his wife of 35 years and celebrate the heck out of them.
Kent made the most of the 59 years he was gifted to walk this planet. I am grateful he was in my life, and I am certain the ripples of his life are far-reaching.
And I already miss his smile.
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