SAUCIER — In loving memory

On average, 175,000 people die each day. But it only takes one death to burrow in and niggle our complacency. Ted’s did that for me.

He was a corporate lawyer, father of four, had a passion for blues and for the education of disadvantaged children. He was an avid storyteller and a delighted story-listener.

Most of all, he was a friend — a friend among friends.

Back when time was just a teen, we went to school together. By some divine confection, those countless hours of pickup basketball, shared meals, and late-night discussions turned into lifelong ties.

Nearly 60 years later, you’ll find us on Zoom every other Monday evening.

We’re 16 old guys — well, 15 now — trading memories, insights and good-natured insults.

We often acknowledged how fortunate we were, not only to have this decades-spanning friendship, but for all of us to still be alive.

Ted was with us, but then one day, he wasn’t. He was on the last call and planning on being in Georgia in September for our reunion. Plans change.

After the news, we started sharing stories. More than mere memories, they were echoes of the humor, the compassion, the bent toward empathy and understanding that was Ted.

We compiled these into a booklet for Ted’s family. We thought it important for them to realize how much this man was loved by a group that knew him far longer than most.

Ted was the first of us to explore the grave, and in doing that, urged a closer look at our lives.

We knew Ted, but to a man, we wished we had known him better.

We are now trying to fashion our discussions in a way that invites more story and self-revelation.

Ted’s passing left us with questions we feel the need to pursue.

What is the legacy — the values and gleanings I want to leave my children and grandchildren?

How can I give myself away before I die?

I may have been a lawyer, a teacher or an engineer, but who was I when I was watching a sunset, holding a child or grieving a loss?

What is it in a loved one I will miss the most when they are gone? How do I cherish that today?

I don’t know what Ted’s last words were, but I imagine him reminding us of Psalm 90:

“Teach us to number our days, so that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”