Firefly

I’m always surprised by fireflies. Every year, they appear slowly, quietly. I think there is a glint of light on my windscreen, or I see a flash of light out of the corner of my eye when I get out of my car in the evening. It takes me about a week to realize that it is time, that the fireflies are here.
A month, and then another go by. They keep appearing. They keep lighting up the dusk sky with their lazy mating dance.
And then they aren’t there. One day finally comes when I realize that I’ve not seen a firefly in weeks. I’d not noticed them leave. Just as quietly as they came, they are gone.
Sometimes people are like fireflies. They are there, and then suddenly they aren’t. Their light illuminates my life for a brief time. I think they’ll always be around. And then they aren’t.

Steve Heydel, who I knew as Edmund Cavendish, is one such person.

 


This isn’t a close friend, one I’ve known well. I didn’t even know he was sick. He was in my medieval reenactment household. We camped together. We spent weekends in the woods, wearing medieval clothing. His always looked better than mine because he bought it.
He was a realtor, and sold me my house. More than most realtors, he helped me move by lending the use of his trailer that he used for events.  He was also an actor.  Later in life he started working for Rodale, a skin cream company.
He died October 18th, at 67, and it is hard to believe.

From IMDB – Steve Heydel is an actor, known for Ashes 2 Ashes (2014), Left Behind or Led Astray?: Examining the Origins of the Secret Pre-Tribulation Rapture (2015) and Held Up at Work(2011). He has been married to Vikki King since April 28, 1995. Height, 5’11”.

The funeral was at 10 a.m. on Thurs Oct 20,2016  at the First United Methodist, Lebanon TN, at at 415 W. Main St. in Lebanon.

From his obituary  –

Mr. Heydel passed away peacefully Oct. 18, 2016 at the age of 67, surrounded by loved ones in Nashville. Steve is survived by his loving wife of 21 years, Vikki King-Heydel, of Lebanon.

He is preceded in death by his mother, June Love Heydel, of Lebanon.

Steve is also lovingly remembered by his father, William David Heydel; brother, Richard David (Sally) Heydel; daughters, Wendy Heydel (Shane) Lynn, Chrissa Heydel (Jim) Gatton; stepson, Aaron Hester; grandsons, Mason Lynn, Connor Lynn, Ethan Lynn, Jacob Gatton, Caleb Gatton; and granddaughters, Bailey Hester, Shyann Hester; and numerous loved ones and dear friends.

Steve was born Nov. 26, 1948 in Rockwood. He graduated from Lebanon High School in 1966 and went on to earn a bachelor of arts in economics from Cumberland University and the University of Tennessee in 1970. He also attended the University of Tennessee Law School in 1971.

Steve’s passion was acting in local Lebanon community theaters and did several commercial and short film acting roles in the Middle Tennessee area. He also had an avid interest in British and European history, and was a member of the Society of Creative Anacronisms, affectionately known amongst his SCA friends as Edmund Cavendish.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to First United Methodist Church or the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.


Here are other pictures of him.

 

…and more recent ones, showing his illness.  He’d had a bone marrow transplant in May, and it had started to fail in October. These are from his Facebook page.

 

 

According to his Facebook page, he liked to read John Sanford and listen to Led Zeppelin, Jefferson Airplane, the Kingston Trio, Connie Laine, Tick Bryan.  For films, Hav Faith, Star Wars, Anne of the Thousand Days, Arn, Wyatt Earp, Ashes to Ashes, the Terminator, Indiana Jones.

I didn’t know know all this about him.   I suspect there is a lot that I’ll never know. I know that he loved to watch local football, and had a room in his house that was perfect for it.  His home was unique – there was a great hall that looked like a hall in a medieval castle.  He had a booth in his kitchen so he and his wife could sit as if they were eating out.

 

 

In memorium.

Should we grieve more for one person and not another?

Is the death more tragic if it is a young mother, or if it is an old spinster?

Is it more sad if a child dies or if an adult dies having never really lived?

Is it more tragic if a famous person or an unknown dies?

All deaths are meaningful. All deaths are sad. All are different. The homeless woman’s death is just as important as the Queen’s. Death will take us all. Death is the great equalizer. Death wins.

We can pretend that death is far away. We can pretend that it will happen another day, to another person. We are special. We are different.

We aren’t. All of us are going to die, one way or another. Like it or not, you can’t escape it. You can’t take your toys with you. There are no guarantees of life, no do-overs.

Tomorrow never comes.

Until it does. Don’t take it for granted. Take it as a gift. Don’t waste it.

Every day is a new gift. Every day is another chance. Make that phone call. Write that book. Start that search for the job where you feel useful and needed and worthwhile, where you get to do what you feel called to do. Go back to school. Whatever. Or learn how to be happy where you are.

One of my friends from high school died today. She was in her mid 40s. Young. With children. A beautiful soul. We hadn’t seen each other since then, and had only recently found each other in the past few years on Facebook. She had brain cancer. Cancer is a terrible way to go. It eats you up, slowly transforming your cells into cancer cells. The treatment is barbaric. Slash and burn, poison and cut. Sometimes the treatment is worse than the disease.

Sandy and I first knew that we had something in common while we were in Economics class. We were bored. We were sitting several rows apart. Somehow I caught that she was quietly singing a Violent Femmes song with a friend of hers. I knew it – and I started singing along. “I take one, one, one cause you left me, and two, two, two for my family…” I knew it, and I was in. I had the secret code that let her know I was weird. Once you were in, you were there. We were great friends after that. The last thing I remember doing is going trick-or-treating with her and two other friends. We were too old to go, really, but we went anyway. Sandy drove, and we picked the rich neighborhoods for our hunt that night. We did well.

I’m grateful to have known her. I’m sad, not really for me, but for her family. I hadn’t seen her in many years. We’d grown apart, like people do. Her loss won’t hurt me as much as it hurts them. But I hope to remember something of her spark, her spirit, her smile. She was funny, and snarky, and smart, and beautiful in all the right ways.

Rest in peace, Sandy Scott. May your memory be a blessing to all who knew you.