Life is an odd thing, it possesses both tangible and intangible pieces that seem to permeate each of us in our own unique way. But while the idea of comprehending the living is done as easy as one takes a breath in or sips water when thirsty, the absence of someone seems to bring on the same strain that calculus brings to an artist. To say the least losing someone hurts, it hurts in the way a cut makes you want to grab the limb and cry but at the same time it appears to hurt deeper, and permeates from the inside out throbbing in a way that no amount of wine or aspirin can seem to alleviate.
To say that somebody fought a good fight is in a way a blanket statement one may use to coat the person’s life with grace and going out with a bang, going out fighting, but fighting for what? Fighting for a means to breath, fighting against one’s body to allow conscious to not escape them to witness how the lives of those around them change or don't in their last days, watch as lives get put on hold as many watch theirs come to a unpleasant close. Some will say that God plays a role that he chooses when people come and when they go, but this is an odd premise seeing as people come and go at all times and had it been predetermined one would think that there has to be more for someone than to last a mere 64 years, that life has to be compiled of more than making movies, memories and serving a public that is only infatuated for a few hours instead of a lifetime.
These past few days the world lost not only a man, or an actor, or a father, or a husband, or a godfather, or a dog lover, or a musician, or a movie lover, or a comedian but all that and more. It speaks great volumes at ones role in human society to see those who lived with grace and brought happiness to so many can be struck down by the simple breakdown of our very building blocks, that a problem so simplistic is one that escapes our ability to reverse on what some see as a daily fight. Ron Tippe did not fight a war per say, he did not fly a plane, but he did live a life, although cut short he lived a life of laughter, of happiness, sadness, and he did so with grace, with class, and dignity. Today we lost not a single man but many, a Shelly, Sandy, Ricky, Ronald, Hobo Number 3, and in many ways a Superman.
In doing so we have gotten yet another glimpse and another lesson on how to live, how to love, and how one can live a life seeing every day to learn and not stop learning or enjoying, not stopping when nature tells you to, but when it forces you and even then letting not your physical self but your character live vibrantly until even that piece is forcible extinguished. Ron, to say you will be missed would be an understatement, to say you will always be remembered is a fact, but to say our lives will not continue would be a lie and would be a disservice to both ourselves and to you. Whether you are somewhere and can read this I know not, but I do know that you would want me and all the many people whose lives you have touched to do just that, so to you I say goodnight as you move on to the next big adventure and walk not amongst men, but giants with whom you share the same size heart, charisma, and joy for the world.