Strange Complaints

I do not want to write the column my heart asks of me, for writing it means that this is not a dream and Bill Shrum is gone. How is that possible?
How can a heart that full stop beating?
My wife had the pleasure of meeting Bill way before I did. When she was the brand new instructor at the local college he was the reporter sent to interview her.
Later that afternoon she told me about meeting him and how he might have been the sweetest man she’d ever met, which tickled him greatly when we meet and I told him that.
Mr. Mike, he’d say, I just love Rosie.
Well Mr. Bill, judging from the tears that fell from her eyes today as she read people sharing their love for you on Facebook, I think it’s safe to say Rosie loved you too.
I think the first moment I realized I might love him too was early in our friendship when Bill took me to a Lions Club meeting. I’d never been to any civic club meeting but he surely had, as he pretty much introduced me to everyone as he spun around the room gathering laughter and a giant plate of food.
Bill was as equally appreciative of the good works a civic club did for the community as well as of the good eating their luncheons did for his belly.
What still stands out in my memory of that day however was how happy and content he was as the meeting truly began and everyone began singing. Looking around I admit I wasn’t sure what to do with myself as I had no idea what was going on, until I managed to see that Bill had basically closed his eyes and was swaying as he sang along with everyone else.
It was was if he were at a revival and was sharing the good news in song and prayer, which in a way I suppose he was. Bill  loved the community of the grand prairie about as much as he loved his church and that’s saying something.
He celebrated both with all his heart.
Maybe that’s why my heart is so heavy and I don’t want to write a memorial column because I’m not just grieving the loss of my friend but moreso I’m grieving the loss of a beacon in our community who celebrated all equally and not one city or individual over another.
I’ve had the privilege of knowing two people like that, Pat Peacock and Bill Shrum.
Granted, I would often tease Bill that since everyone else loved him so much as to be a local celebrity that I would have to choose another Shrum as my favorite, his brother Rodger Shrum.
While Bill was a loud and joyous soul I always loved how his brother balanced that out by being quiet and determined. When it got back to Rodger what I said, though, he came to the newspaper office and gifted me a homemade cherry pie in thanks.
I haven’t thought of that in years.
If those two men aren’t reunited and laughing with their parents, then I don’t understand the concept of heaven...
I just... I want to just keep writing because if I stop that’s it, you know?
I want to tell how every year on his birthday Bill would dance into the office and start singing “Its my birrrrrrrthday” over and over until we all laughed and sang with him.
I want to tell how when service was slower than he wanted at Littke Chef one lunch where we’d all gone together he got up and walked to the kitchen asking if they needed some help?
I want to tell how hard he made Daniel Kelso laugh on his last day as he walked across the background of Daniel recording a brief video synopsis of the days news.. holding a sign that read “I farted”
I want to tell how proud he was each year that he was able to save up enough money to give a deserving student a scholarship, as he cherished seeing kids strive for better.
I want to tell you how devestated he was when Rodger lost his battle with cancer and yet how concerned he was that everyone at the viewing and funeral was okay, refusing to let his smile dim even a little.
I want to tell you the same for his mother, but that one cracked his smile a little.
I really want to tell you of the loves of his life, his neice Melissa an her son, his Moss man. Although if you were anywhere near him these last few years you were going to be shown a photo of that boy and you were going to see Bill break out the big smile as he told you about how much he loved him.
...
I really wanted to tell him I loved him one more time before he left. I guess in some ways that’s why I eventually decided to try and write something. I can’t fit all my love for you in the words my friend, as there isn’t enough newsprint in the world.
Love you, Bill.
Love you too, Grand Prairie. Just for a moment let’s not worry about Stuttgart or Dewitt, let’s just take care of each other and pick up some of the love Bill left behind. It won’t be hard, he left a piece for each of us and if we lift our pieces all together at the same time, maybe we can light him on his way home.

Until later...