REQUIEM FOR RYAN

We are traveling through the blizzard in Ryan’s last parade. Behind the hearse that carries him, we’re protected by escort. We disregard traffic signs and signals. Everyone and everything stops as we pass, slowly and deliberately.

Insulated by the heavy snowfall, the world is monotone. The weather shields us in a quiet cotton veil. Too much color would be hard to bear. As we navigate the freeway, conditions worsen, visibility decreases and cars slip into ditches. We are immune to these distractions and press on in our solemn line.

Photo by Peter Wuebker

The cemetery is austere and peaceful. Ryan has a gig before its cast of thousands. Their row and seat numbers are marked in white marble. Their long lines fade away into the veil of snow. Spreading oaks and elegant iron fencing punctuate the distances in pure black against the white. There are no shades of grey here, today, as there were in life.

We emerge from our cars in silence. There is nowhere to be but here, nothing to think of but now. The flags are bright against all the other somber tones. All eyes are on the Stars and Stripes, blanketing him in a final, loving embrace.

Photo by Peter Wuebker

With precision, the shots pierce the silence and the bugler brings the horn to his lips. There are many who stand to salute, and the rest of us place our hands against our hearts while the mournful notes are played. The branches whisper a sigh. Reverentially, the flag is folded and the triangle is presented with prayerful thanks.

Matt has already reminded us this day that Ryan has sailed his starship across the Universe divide. That Ryan has found a place to rest his spirit. That Ryan lived and breathed a beautiful game. That Ryan, like all great comedians, was an excellent observer and hilarious interpreter of the human condition.

We stand on ceremony for many the occasion. We take comfort in tradition and familiar words. I think of Ryan watching us set this familiar stage and listening to the traditional words. I think of him smiling.

Photo by Peter Wuebker

I think of how life plays out in many acts before the final curtain, but we never know exactly how many until the houselights come up. I know that if God had warned that he could only give us Ryan for this one set, not a single one who knew him would have declined the offer.

We’ve watched this final scene play innumerable times, and now we’ve had a part. In Ryan’s honor. At Ryan’s gig. It’s cold here and he is gone to the next.

RIP Ryan T. Richard 1976 - 2009

The real great man is the man who makes every man feel great. –G.K. Chesterton