Dear Bob,

I just learned this morning that you died over the weekend in a nursing home in Connecticut. I know you hoped to die at the Mansion, but our laws are rigid, if not always humane.

When I talked to you a week or so, you were in great pain and you said goodbye to me and thanked me for the books I gave you and the subscription to Builders Magazine.

I love my visits with you and Red. You came to the Mansion a year ago with your wife Shirley, and she died soon after, and almost immediately,  you were diagnosed with cancer. We both joked that there seemed to be a lot of that going around.

The staff loved you dearly, you suffered without complaint or lament,  you were alway gracious and grateful.

I’m glad I got to know Shirley, she adored Red, and I’m glad I got to know you and have all of those good talks on the porch and in your room. I’m sorry we never got to go to those car races downstate, you were eager to take me to, but pretty soon, you were in no shape to go.

You were a deeply religious person and you accepted cancer and death and the loss of Shirley as God’s plan for you. I wish I had your faith, I have never believed, as I told you, that there is a plan for me. Life just seems to happen.

When we last talked just a few days ago, you told me you were ready to go and be with Shirley. That is a comforting thought.

Thanks so much for posing for the cover of our book on the Mansion, “Tales Of The Mansion.” You had the best story, you rock.

As you know, I am a hospice volunteer and also a volunteer at the Mansion, and I see a lot of sickness and death. Nobody ever handled pain and sorrow with more grace than you, and  I will certainly miss you.

Red seemed especially comfortable sitting by your bed. I’m glad we got to say goodbye.

At the Mansion and in my hospice work, I’ve seen a lot of sickness and death, and I never saw anyone handle it with more grace and humor. If we do meet again, I hope we can go to that car race together, I would like it.

You were such a good man, and a sweet man.

I came to love you myself, along with the people who lived with you and cared for you. Rest in peace good friend, if you are right about God, you are sitting up in heaven with Shirley planning to build your celestial home.

You never stopped being a builder, and you are the only person I ever know who nearly cried for joy when I brought you a book on the engineering details behind the Panama Canal. If there is a better place, you will be in it.

And what on earth am I supposed to do with six months of “Builder Magazine?”

All the best, your friend Jon