Letter to the Editor: Mr. Bob Prejean
What can I saw about a man that I had worked with for over six years? The times we had, the arguing, the laughter, some tears, the sharing. He was hard at times and loving at others, but always he was a friend. A flirt, a story teller. All the stories he had shared with me about his life, his family, his last love. The tears he cried the morning he told me of Ms Meredith's death and the loss he felt right up to his own death. The last conversation we had had about a week before his death and his last words to me. I cherish that conversation, and I will remember it until the day I die. He made an impression, a man of his years and going strong, stronger then a lot of younger men than himself. He slowed over the years, and I saw his decline day after day. I asked him once why he worked at his age, and his simple but truthful answer to me was, "What else do I do, sit home and die?" That was his motto, he loved his job, and he was one of the best salesmen I ever met. He always came through with that last ad. He was also one of the most generous, giving his time and his love. When Deron started he made very little but Mr. Bob took him under his wing and showed him around. Helping him with an extra meal, and he always gave us both Walmart gift certificates for birthdays and Christmas. There was nothing he would not do to help if asked. If in his power, he would make it happen. We would argue over something, but we always made up. We never left it for long before one of us would say I am sorry. But I guess that is what family does, and we were a family. Allison, Deron, Steve, me and at the head of our little family, Mr Bob. I spoke with his sons and daughters. Mostly by phone, but I did meet several of them. He was so proud of them all. He spoke of them often, and thanked God for Michael and him coming every weekend. He would brag about the huge breakfasts Michael would cook for them both and how much he enjoyed that. The stories he would tell us all about his time in WWII, his buddies he had then and the ones he was slowly losing in his small town. He would have such a lost look on his face, and I could not help but think of all the things he had seen and done in his long life and how blessed I was to know him. I was not shocked to hear of his death, but my heart broke all the same. I can still close my eyes and see him standing beside my desk telling me of some antic one of his precious dogs had pulled and the laugh he had. I hear his voice as if he stands beside me, and I smile. The tears flowed freely since that day I learned he was gone, but then the smiles came at all the memories I had been privileged to, the secrets he told me, the joy and heartache in his life. The day he showed up for my brother's funeral, completely unexpected he would take his time to care about me. Why I was surprised I don't know, but his being there meant a lot to me. Mr Bob, I will forever remember you and I will forever be blessed you were a part of my life, your friendship, your love will always live in my heart. I love you as always and I will miss you. RIP Mr. Bob, you deserve the rest. Goodbye, my old friend, may we one day meet again . . .