My friend’s father

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Found out a few moments ago that Gary Kuppinger, my friend’s father, passed today after a long battle with cancer.

I’m heartbroken.

Greg Kuppinger, my friend (and a dazzling artist), is an absolutely great guy. I mean, all-time great. And when you have all-time great people, they’re walking, talking, breathing, living testaments to their parents; to the examples they set; to the lessons they uttered; to the values they tried to instill.

Anyone who reads this blog knows I fret over death—a lot. I’m not quite sure how to grasp the whole thing, though I’m trying (my therapy post will come in a day or two). What I do know, however, is that the only way to make something out of death is to use it; to be motivated by the fact that life is fleeting, and we should leave this world exhausted, beaten down, exhilarated and out of breath. In other words, completely tapped out.

I’m babbling. Greg, you’re a humble, honorable guy, and I you live in the most righteous of ways. You’re a tribute to your father.

** A quick story: Greg got married, oh, five years ago to another very close friend of ours, Jill Murray. At the time of the wedding, Greg’s dad was in the hospital and unable to attend. Greg set up a live video feed to the hospital, just to make certain he didn’t miss anything.

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