Reminders of the petty scale of our daily problems come often as a subtle tap on the shoulder – but sometimes as a blow to the head, or the heart.
The only attractive reason to anticipate my pre-dawn business trip this week was the chance to spend an hour with Adam, our family’s friend and driver for the last dozen years.
It was much more than his immaculate town car, with the daily papers and the ready stash of chilled drinks and its soft and capacious seating – all in contrast to our city’s rattle-box taxis with their cramp-inducing lack of legroom and pervasive odors mixed of dirty laundry and spicy roast goat.
It was the spirit of Adam himself -- always turned out in tie and cap, with his broadly-smiling reminder on the outbound legs to count the luggage and confirm the tickets, and his cheery “Welcome home” at the arrivals terminal on the other end.
He was a Coptic Egyptian. He had lived in the minority all over the world, acquiring along the way a quiet and pacific tolerance that was always calming as we would sit in traffic and review the world’s issues from one trip to the next.
I never met his wife, but I learned through his affection the model of two well-differentiated personalities, who bring complementary skills and strengths to the sustaining of a long, caring and devoted partnership.
And we shared the joys and challenges of older fatherhood. We supported each other on the evolving problems of “little kids” and “big kids.” As he drove us to family holidays and college visits, he always asked about our daughter’s well being.
Adam moved into semi-retirement, but loyally kept us in his client book. As ever, he was always ten minutes early rather than five minutes late. So when he was not at our door at 6:30 am, just before the morning rush hour would begin to build, I called his number on the speed dial, out of concern that I had given him a wrong date or time.
What I was not prepared for was the stranger’s voice: “This is Adam’s son. Adam passed away suddenly, last Thursday. The funeral was yesterday.”
The world is changed. It’s no more a matter of his help in finding the passports and loading the ski bags and making the adjustments of cancelled flights and re-arranged pick-ups. It’s that a wise and gentle man will no longer be there to bring tolerance and perspective to the nuisance and disruptions of a traveler’s life.
Our family loved you, Adam Bisher, and we will miss you. You drove us faithfully in comfort and safety. Flights of angels now drive thee to thy rest.
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Thank you for giving me a picture of who Adam Bisher was and thus an additional part of the picture of who you are.
Posted by: Suzanne Hutchinson | October 07, 2010 at 01:48 PM
Wonderful tribute. I often consider my life already over-peopled, but you made me wish that I had known Adam. Thanks.
Posted by: Jonah Gibson | October 13, 2010 at 02:03 PM