When a Friend Dies

Yesterday I received a phone call from an old employee. Over the years I have tried to maintain a good relationship with people that I have worked with and from time to time they still call to talk, or ask questions. When Vince called I thought maybe this was the case. At first I missed his call, so when I had a chance to call him back I was caught off guard when he started the conversation with "I am sorry to hear about your friend". It took me a second as I thought about his comment and began to process what he was saying. I knew that I didn't want to ask, but had to, "what do you mean?". He said, "I thought you knew, maybe somebody had already called you, but Travis passed away last night." He was 36 years old.

Travis Robert Jackson was my friend, I am not the type of person that has too many close friends that I feel that I can talk to about anything at all, I think I can count on one hand the people that I have ever had this type of relationship with. He was the type of person that although we would go months without seeing each other, I knew that if I ever needed anything in this world, or he ever needed anything from me we would be there for each other.

I first met Travis back in 1992. He was fresh out of high school and was working as a helper for a pool builder that I did some work for. I saw him a few times, but it wasn't until one day I was sitting on the side of Industrial road with a flat tire and no spare. He pulled up in his little white work truck and waited there talking until Kathy showed up to rescue me. That is where the friendship began.
Soon after that Travis came to work for me when I started Lifeguard Pools. He really didn't know anything about repairs, but he was a quick learner, and a very likable person. He worked with me out of our house on Sunrise Mountain. This was an extremely fun time for all of us, In the morning we would lay out the jobs, discuss what needed to be done and rush through the day to meet back at home so that we could jump in the truck and head to the lake to water-ski. Jeff and Tim were just little, Tonja McCourt, and her Brother Lucas would pile in the truck with Kathy and the kids and we would go to the lake. If we finished late, we had it timed out that from the truck to the water at Government wash it was 17 minutes. If we finished early we would go to Callvile. I can't count the times that we would pull each other from the Wash to the Dam and back. In the winter we would go skiing. The first time I took Travis skiing he was so bad that I decided to even things out I would learn to snowboard, while he learned to ski. For a full day we spent the majority of the time face down in the snow, or on our backs trying to get up. By the end of the day he was skiing, and despite my cracked ribs, I could make it down-hill without falling every 10 feet. That day I can remember both of us lying in pain at opposite sides of the slope making fun of each other and daring each other to quit so that we could go in the lodge and warm up.

We bought four wheelers together and spent many days riding out by the Vegas Dunes, trying to see who could jump the farthest or outrun the other. Travis was the first to tell me that, Pain is temporary, Glory lasts forever, and chicks dig scars. One year he bought jet skis and we switched from water-skiing to jet skiing. One of my favorite memories was riding up from Willow Beach to the Dam. When we got to the point that you could see the Dam, but not go any further, we layed back on the skis and floated with the current. I remember how hot it was, but how cold the water was as it came from the depths of Lake Meade. For about an hour we floated and talked about life. It was a Polaroid day, one of those days that you can close your eyes and remember every detail.

When Travis was engaged he asked me to be his best man, I flew back to Wisconsin to the wedding. I met his family, Mom, Dad, Grandma, I even met his cousin that he swore was an identical twin to Howie Long the Football player. I had never been to Wisconsin but was honored to be there for his wedding.

Anything that I had was his, anything that he had was mine. One year he borrowed my boat to go to Lake Havasu for spring break. He came back with the boat in need of a few repairs. When he bought his new white jeep I borrowed it to run across town. He had just had it detailed but by the time I got home with it, it was difficult to tell what color it was under all the mud. He was so mad, he also never let me forget it.

Good friends know each other well, sometimes too well, He knew what to say to get under my skin, and I had plenty of ammo when I needed to hit him with a zinger. Travis was a good son. Although he was born into the Jackson family he was raised by Dennis Rowan. When he was in his twenties he made the decision to have his name changed to Rowan to honor his father. He was attentive to the needs of his parents and I know that he had a very close bond with his Mom, and was very attentive to her well being.

Life goes on, kids grow up and become parents. Travis divorced, remarried and had a son. Zack is the spitting image of his dad. He not only looks like Travis, but is his clone even in the way he walks, laughs, talks and has many of his Dad's mannerisms. Travis Loved Zack more than anything in the world. When He would tell me about his plans with Zack for the weekend his eyes would light up and I could see the same excitement from earlier days days when we would plan our activities. We really didn't hang out after we moved from the Sunrise Mt. house, but we always stayed in touch. I had a family, and Travis had Zack. Our kids were now the most important things to us. We still would occasionally sneak off and get Sushi, Travis loved Sushi. Ultimately Travis put all of his extra energy into his son, he talked about going to the skateboard park, playing video games, and just being in awe with his never ending questioning of everything. He was a great Dad, and Zack will miss him dearly. Life is not fair, I don't know why he was taken so young. I don't know what could possibly have been done to prolong his time on this earth, but ultimately it is never really in our hands, is it?
I have heard it said time and time again that, Time Heals all Wounds. I know that this is true to a point, but ultimately I know that if I live to be a hundred years old, there will never be a time that I won't miss my friend. Some day I hope that I will see him again and we can laugh about the time that he broke my boat, and I trashed his jeep. Until that day comes, He will always be in my thoughts and his son in my prayers.