![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Jim Gasser
The curse for people like me, it is far easier to feel than to express. It's hard to communicate when it really matters, and I have been unable to deeply talk about Jim's passing beyond relating the bare facts.
I emailed Danny Reardon to let him know. His response was immediate and, like many of us, his heart breaks for the loss. What he said helped me put words to the feelings. With his permission, and with the hope that others may find comfort there was well, I will publish here what he wrote to me:
I emailed Danny Reardon to let him know. His response was immediate and, like many of us, his heart breaks for the loss. What he said helped me put words to the feelings. With his permission, and with the hope that others may find comfort there was well, I will publish here what he wrote to me:
No words.
Okay, a few.
Those of us who knew him, each of us, I'll warrant, called him friend.
I don't like to wax about death. I wish that It be not proud. But this guy deserves those few words I can gather.
But oh, no. Not Jim. Not Jim.
We knew Jim well--or about as well as we could, seeing someone at a few shows a year. That my family and I thought the world of him would be something of an understatement. Though every phrase, every thought, seems old, tired, and far overused, this one is true--I have not known a kinder man. One who went out of his way to say hello, and chat for a bit. He always had time for everyone, it seemed, and especially for children, with whom Jim showed a patience and understanding that only a big kid himself can feel.
I know of no one--no one--who did not regard him highly. We all considered him a friend, because he made us all feel that way. His gifts of kindness and goodwill were extraordinary, usually found only in very old stories we don't suspect were ever true, in tattered old books about long ago times. But Jim was real, and for a very little while, he was here. He was one of the best people I have ever known--and I choose that well-worn phrase carefully. Here, with Jim, it is true, and bears repeating. Jim Gasser was one of the best people my wife, Beth, and I have ever known.
My son William adored Jim, and he always made William feel like a special kid. William's armory is a testament to Jim's skill molding his foam swords that he sold at all sorts of shows. And sold them he did--a nutty guy dressed up like a barbarian, walking around all over the place, saying hello in that piping, tenor voice that always seemed so discordant with the speaker's chiseled exterior.
As for me, I always felt honored each time he stopped to talk. Jim shined. What a great soul.
You know, we all often say many things, most of then badly worded, when someone passes--and I, too, struggle for the words. This was an injustice, on many levels I cannot truly comphrehend. I'm both shaken and deeply saddened. I hope more than a few truly understand how much the world is diminished without Jim Gasser in it.
I greatly fear I shall not again meet anyone as genuine as Jim. We might all say we wish we knew him better, but you know, I think we did. I know I am better for having known him.
This sadness will stay with me for some time, I think. I hope, at this very least, I have done Jim some service. So should we all, for each other, long before the time to do so for one another has passed.
Okay, a few.
Those of us who knew him, each of us, I'll warrant, called him friend.
I don't like to wax about death. I wish that It be not proud. But this guy deserves those few words I can gather.
But oh, no. Not Jim. Not Jim.
We knew Jim well--or about as well as we could, seeing someone at a few shows a year. That my family and I thought the world of him would be something of an understatement. Though every phrase, every thought, seems old, tired, and far overused, this one is true--I have not known a kinder man. One who went out of his way to say hello, and chat for a bit. He always had time for everyone, it seemed, and especially for children, with whom Jim showed a patience and understanding that only a big kid himself can feel.
I know of no one--no one--who did not regard him highly. We all considered him a friend, because he made us all feel that way. His gifts of kindness and goodwill were extraordinary, usually found only in very old stories we don't suspect were ever true, in tattered old books about long ago times. But Jim was real, and for a very little while, he was here. He was one of the best people I have ever known--and I choose that well-worn phrase carefully. Here, with Jim, it is true, and bears repeating. Jim Gasser was one of the best people my wife, Beth, and I have ever known.
My son William adored Jim, and he always made William feel like a special kid. William's armory is a testament to Jim's skill molding his foam swords that he sold at all sorts of shows. And sold them he did--a nutty guy dressed up like a barbarian, walking around all over the place, saying hello in that piping, tenor voice that always seemed so discordant with the speaker's chiseled exterior.
As for me, I always felt honored each time he stopped to talk. Jim shined. What a great soul.
You know, we all often say many things, most of then badly worded, when someone passes--and I, too, struggle for the words. This was an injustice, on many levels I cannot truly comphrehend. I'm both shaken and deeply saddened. I hope more than a few truly understand how much the world is diminished without Jim Gasser in it.
I greatly fear I shall not again meet anyone as genuine as Jim. We might all say we wish we knew him better, but you know, I think we did. I know I am better for having known him.
This sadness will stay with me for some time, I think. I hope, at this very least, I have done Jim some service. So should we all, for each other, long before the time to do so for one another has passed.