About Losing A Close Friend

One of the last photos I made of my good friend Bill, taken in July of this year.  Bill was 85
but more alive than most young people you would meet.

It's been a long time since I've lost a family member or friend or otherwise someone close to me.  Saturday I received a telephone call from the wife of one of my best "photo buddies."  She called to sadly tell me that her husband, Bill, had suddenly and unexpectedly passed away that morning.  Needless to say, I was stunned.  I felt as though I had been gut punched.  I was almost speechless.  Almost.  I thought to myself, how could this be?

After she told me that he had come downstairs complaining of "stomach" pains, he sat down and just died.  My concern immediately was for her.  You see, Bill dearly loved his wife and family above all else. Almost literally, did everything for her.  He handled almost all of the daily living duties as well as being very protective of her and wanting to constantly ensure her safety.  She then told me she will be lost without him and she will be.  Without a doubt.  Of course, I offered to help in any way.  How could I not?  My heart goes out to her.

Bill has been a friend, well, it seems forever.  I don't remember exactly when I met Bill but he worked for the Virginia Department of Criminal Justice Services, the regulatory agency for law enforcement, corrections and private security in Virginia, for about 30 years, finally retiring when he was about 78 or 79 years old.  I was a chief of police and we met sometime 'way back' during the course of our individual duties and responsibilities.  Our paths crossed often.  At some point we both discovered we were photographers and we started hanging out together, along with a couple of other close photographer friends, and have been for the past many years.  We all became fast friends but I always though Bill was the 'glue' that held all of us together.

Before the pandemic, there were three of us guys who would meet for breakfast regularly.  We sat and talked and solved the world's problems year after year.  We picked on each other, aggravated each other, laughed a lot and then, after breakfast, we usually went out to photograph together.  After the pandemic and when most of the businesses remained closed to inside dining, Bill and I started a tradition to meet for coffee in a parking lot next to a McDonald's.  We would do this every three weeks or so and he bugged me to do it every week.  He loved sitting and talking about mutual interests.  We would park side-by-side, I would always buy coffee and a couple of McDonald's Egg McMuffins.  I don't think he had ever had one before I brought them but he sure loved them.  Then he always wanted to pay me for the coffee and McMuffin.  In no way, I would tell him, that I would allow him to spoil my very small gift to him.  During our normally two hour conversations, one topic was persistent.  He always mentioned how much he loved his wife, his children and his friends.  He never had a cross word to say about anyone or anything.  Yes, he was old, sometimes stubborn and a curmudgeon, but he had a heart of gold.  On many of our occasions sitting, talking and drinking coffee, I would snap a few photos of him in his F-150 pickup truck, just for fun.  The image at the top of this post is one of the last ones I made of him.  It was during these long conversations that I came to know the real Bill inside of the Bill we saw on the surface.

Giving a bit of background on Bill, you come to realize he was a sort of renaissance man.  Truly.  His father committed suicide when he was a very young boy but that didn't deter him from growing up with high morals, principles and a strong desire to serve others.  In high school, he became a life guard.  That was the first step in his long journey to look out for others.  Right out of high school, Bill joined the United States Navy and served as a communications specialist.  After several years in the Navy, he became a police officer in his native Kentucky—in the Lexington Police Department, to be precise.

Bill loved being a police officer and relatively quickly was promoted to the rank of lieutenant.  That is when the hand of fate dealt him a cruel blow.  He was a motorcycle officer and, as he told me many times, as he was riding one day a tractor trailer started to turn right in front of him.  He told me he immediately  recognized he had three choices.  He could swerve to the left into oncoming traffic, swerve to the right but that was the direction the truck was turning and he judged he couldn't turn far enough to avoid the truck or put his bike down on its side and slide into the truck, hoping to hit a wheel or such so he didn't slide under it.  As you might have guessed, he was hurt—badly.  His foot and leg were crushed under the wheel of the tractor trailer and he was hospitalized and out of work for countless months.   As bad as things were for him, he was just happy to not have lost his foot of leg.  He couldn't wait to get back to work and back up on his motorcycle.  To the day he died, he had to deal with the extreme pain in his foot and lower leg.  It never left him but he never complained and it never stopped him from doing what he wanted to do.

Unfortunately, the chief wouldn't put him back to work as a street officer and, if he wanted to come back to work, he would ride a desk.  That wouldn't do for Bill.  He had to get back out there on the street.  So what did Bill do?  He called a former fellow police officer, now the county sheriff, and asked him if he could come to work for him and go back on the street, which he did.  Bill was elated.

Bill never told me how long he was back on the street but at some point in time, I believe after he qualified for retirement, he was appointed to head up a newly created statewide police training facility that served all of law enforcement in Kentucky.  You see, even though he may have retired, he wasn't ready to quit serving others.

Bill built one heck of an academy as director.  Being he was fundamentally a die hard photography lover and loved forensics as well.  He built a first class darkroom which would hold a class full of photography students and taught a number of crime scene and evidence photography coursed for officers to learn the proper way to document criminal activity.  To this day, there are former police officers who learned photography from him that still kept in touch with him.

When Bill finally retired from that job he came to Virginia and joined the Virginia Department of Criminal Justice Services and was designated as the person in all of southeast Virginia who would annually certify individual law enforcement basic academies as well as administer the certification test to newly appointed police officers and deputy sheriffs.  Now, he only did that for another 25 or 30 years after he retired twice from two careers in Kentucky—as I said, he retired from the DCJS job at 78 or 79 years of age.  He just loved serving others, helping others achieve their dreams and getting you men and women off on the right foot as law enforcement officers.  And, by the way, he was very successful at his job.  Not only that, he was universally loved by all in the criminal justice system who came to know him.

Bill, as I mentioned was sort of a modern day renaissance man.  He was a certified forensic photographer, an instructor pilot, a certified dive instructor, had his boat captain's license, was fingerprint expert, certified instructor for forensics and the list goes on.  Most of all, to me, he was one of the best friends I have ever had.  He was truly one of a kind.  God created a unique individual on this earth and I was privileged to be a part of his life.  There will never be another one like Bill.

I'll be 70 years of age in January.  I don't consider myself old, just older than I once was.  I'm fortunate as I don't feel old.  I have a positive attitude and wake up with a smile each morning ready to see what adventure the day holds for me.  I'm the optimist.  I look for the good in everything.  I have no aches and pains, don't need any joints replaced, no major medical issues,  only some minor stuff that comes along with a bit of age, have lived a grateful, thankful and blessed life.  But the one thing that I find hardest, as I have rounded third base on the way to home in this baseball game of life, is losing family and friends to the grim reaper.  It is hard to see those with whom you have spent years, and in some cases a lifetime, pass away.  You see, you can't replace the relationships that develop over decades of  sharing lives and experiences by meeting new people at this stage in life.  It just isn't the same.  It takes a long time to develop those kinds of friendships and, at my age, we just don't have that kind or time before us. We don't socialize as much, don't travel as much and no longer have those close relationships with a whole group of people with which we work.  One starts to wonder who will be the last one left.  Not a pleasant thought, but sometimes a persistent one.  Cherish your friends and family—now.  Today.  Don't waste another minute.  Don't take any of it for granted.

Bill was the kind of guy that would do anything for you.  That's not a cliché.  He literally would give you the shirt off his back, money, time and even his camera if he thought you needed it.  If a hurricane was coming, he would be on the phone or texting and say, "Hey, if your lights go out, you and your wife can come stay with my wife and me.  We have a bedroom for you.  I mean it."  And he did.  He would put out weather alerts if it appeared there was going to be stormy weather because he cared about his friends and wanted them to be safe.  He would offer his truck or car if he thought you needed one or your car was in for repairs.  He would offer to come to your house and drive you to and from a medical procedure if he thought it would be better if you didn't drive yourself.  He didn't care how far, what time or any of that.  His friendship was unconditional.  That kind of thoughtfulness and kindness was his everyday way of life.  Not out of the ordinary for him.

Bill was one of only two or three people with which I could discuss a few of my favorite subjects.  Those subjects included particle physics, black holes, cosmology, Einstein's theories, the history of photography, electro-magnetic pulses, forensic techniques in solving crimes, etc.  For a guy who was informal as anyone I have ever known and still had a bit of his Kentucky drawl, Bill was as intelligent as anyone I've known.  To find out, you just had to know in what he was interested and start the conversation.  Let's talk about neutrinos Bill.  Let's talk about the space/time continuum Bill.  Let's talk about wet plate photography.  Let's talk about ASA versus ISO and DIN.  (You old photographers will know to what I am referring)  Let's talk about when fingerprints are formed before birth.  We often joked that we shared DNA as we had so many things in common.  Several times over the years he asked me, "Are you sure your father never came to Kentucky before you were born? We have to share some DNA!"  Lol.

I must say a few things about Bill's talent as a photographer.  After all, this is a photography blog.  He was talented, no doubt.  He loved to photograph birds, especially raptors and even more especially, Bald Eagles.  He would get out every opportunity he could to find eagles to photograph.  He loved his Nikon D850 camera body and especially his old, tired and worn, but extremely sharp copy of the Sigma 50-500mm lens.  He called it his "Bigma."  Bill could work magic with that combination.  In his 80s, he could hold that long, heavy lens out in front of him, steady as a rock, focusing on the eye of an eagle.  Whenever we all were out photographing together, Bill was the most patient of all of us as he would stay in a location long after the rest of us lost our patience and would leave, just to wait and see if an eagle would appear.  Often times, it did and he 'got the shot' we wished we would have gotten.  There is a lesson that.  

Other than raptors, Bill loved to photograph large animals.  He was almost obsessed with photographing lions.  Not too long ago, a dream for him came true when he was able to travel to Africa and photograph lions, elephants, hippos, giraffes, antelope, leopards and other beasts.  When he returned, he posted his photos and they were amazing.  I think all of us photographer friends were so happy for him to have waited so long to go and finally his dream came true.  Before he went, he would tell us at breakfast that he wanted to get a closeup shot of a lion's eye.  He said he would get out of the Land Rover if he had to and walk up as close to the lion as he could to get that photograph.  Of course, we told him he was crazy and he would end up as dinner!  Knowing Bill, he may have actually tried it and that is why we were serious to try to knock that thought out of his mind.  Luckily, he didn't and came back unharmed and full of wonderful images.    

Photographically speaking, he was old school.  He knew as much about the technical aspects and history of photography as anyone.  Often times, he would challenge me with a question about film photography, developers, the Scheimphlug Principle, or other obscure things just to see if he could stump me but always generating more conversation about photography.

I guess I've rambled on long enough.  But Bill's death got me thinking about my own mortality.  It could have been me that sat down in my chair and just passed on.  It could be any of us.  I then thought about what my wife would have to go through to try to figure out how to go on with the day to day duties of which I now take care.  How lost would she be?  That has me a bit worried about her so here is what I plan to do to protect her if I should die unexpectedly.  Take heed.

At the suggestion of another photo friend, I am going to put together a loose leaf notebook with a page dedicated everything I now do.  What maintenance to what things, vehicles, the house, etc. gets done at what time frames and where and how.  How all the utility bills are paid either by check or online, all of my various usernames and passwords for all of the accounts of all of the services we transparently use, where to find important documents in my computer with screen shots of the file structure so she knows where all of our important information easily can be found.  I want her to know who to contact at my former employers so she can ensure she gets the life insurance and other benefits.  How to contact Social Security and Medicare, etc.  All of those kinds of things all in one place so my wife will not be lost when it comes to day to day duties with which we must all engage.

Well, you see what's happened here?  He's done it again.  One last gesture of friendship and kindness from Bill.  If he hadn't passed away unexpectedly, I wouldn't have gotten the advice to put together the notebook to save my wife from worrying about not knowing how everything works and where everything can be found.  Even in death Bill remains a true friend.

Rest in peace, my friend.  You will be missed and never forgotten.  I promise.  Oh!  And thanks for being such an extraordinary human being and friend that I had a lot of things to write about you, rambling on and writing this.  It has been good therapy for me in dealing with my grief.  Later, buddy.  I'll see you in that great darkroom in the sky.

Join me over at my website, https://www.dennismook.com.  

Thanks for looking. Enjoy!  

Dennis A. Mook  

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