Man lived a life to celebrate, met death with courage and faith

I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be responsible, to be honorable, to be compassionate. It is, after all, to matter: to count, to stand for something, to have made some difference that you lived at all. --
Leo Rosten

Bill Hill, Hector McEachern, Nat Irvin and I met years ago after agreeing to serve on the Winston-Salem Urban League Board. It was a challenging time, as the new board had the task of selecting a president to replace Delores "Dee" Smith. She would eventually be selected to lead the organization again. One week ago, we met again, this time in church. Hector, Nat and I sat on the sixth row at First Baptist Church (Highland Avenue), and taking a seat directly in front of us was Dee Smith. We figured Bill arranged this to remind us of how we came together. We couldn't argue with him. It was his Homegoing service, a celebration in song and Scripture. Bill died on Nov. 11. His life was his eulogy.

Earlier in the week I received a call from Hector, at 6:49 a.m., according to my voice-mail message, informing me that Bill had died. I immediately called Nat. He sensed something was wrong; maybe it was the early morning call, or he remembered, like me, the last time we all spoke with Bill. He had called and asked that we pray for him. There was something about the sound of his voice that prompted immediate action. The prayer meeting was by conference call this day. We couldn't touch one another, but we were together in spirit and that was uplifting. Prayer was a common practice for us.

Years ago, for example, we had just eaten lunch at Copeland's and were on our way back to work. It was a day out to lunch for the "boys", a quarterly, if not more frequent, event. That's how we referred to our small group. After lunch, wherever we ate (Mayflower, Prissy Polly's or the Chop House) and before returning to work or the next scheduled appointment, we conducted our usual practice -- we prayed together.

We prayed for one another, our families, for guidance and to be led to do God's will. While it was a common practice for us, it was an unusual sight to see in public, for some. Four men, friends, huddled together, arms around one another, heads bowed, praying. That day, my wife happened to be meeting someone there for lunch, too, and arrived at the time we were praying in the parking lot. What she found interesting was watching other people watch us pray. Now, that circle has been broken.

We had some time to reflect last week and talk about our friendship, about Bill's positive influence, and about how his ability to live with his illness affected us. He had an easy manner. Sherlane, his wife, said that he was at peace before he departed. "I'll miss the old boy," she told me. He was singing, laughing and praying, and having fun until the end. He had it his way, on his own terms.

I remember Bill talking about the quality of his life after undergoing chemotherapy. He was questioning whether to continue with the treatment or not. He was prepared to let God handle the outcome, when he was referred to another doctor and treatment that resulted in good news -- he was cancer-free! I remember our excitement, the celebration, how we rejoiced over dinner at Nat's house with our wives, the prayer as we held hands, singing and shouting. What a night to remember; thanking God for his blessings.

The cancer came back, but Bill did not complain. He was courageous, always upbeat, positive, and he met the challenge head on. I remember calling him once, while he was hospitalized. Before I could ask how he was doing, he asked me. What could I say? I was having a bad day. I always came away from a conversation with him seeing things differently, not complaining, but thankful. He called another day asking how Hector was doing, after hearing the news about Wachovia being sold. He was concerned about the "boys."

I told the "boys" that "Bill was a good brother. We learned much from him. He would ask us now -- so how are you doing?"

"So true," Hector said. Bill knows all the answers to the questions we will ask at lunch now, according to Nat. He is probably laughing at us now because we have to go back to work.

On Nov. 15, the "boys" met again, at the front of the church. We held hands, touched the coffin, bowed our heads and prayed. Bill, you lived a life that mattered, that counted and made a difference.

For that, we are thankful. We will keep your seat open at the table.

Nigel Alston is a Dale Carnegie trainer and motivational speaker. He can be reached at nalston1@triad.rr.com.