Goodbye, Roger!

ScottyPedia is back, loyal readers. I've been absent from the blogosphere for a bit, for reasons I will shortly explain.

One of my closest colleagues and friend at work, Roger Gibson, passed away on March 7th after nearly two weeks in the hospital. Roger, diagnosed as a diabetic for over 25 years, got a cut on his right Achilles tendon that degenerated into septicaemia. During his hospital stay, my friend had an amputation, suffered renal failure and had some cardiac events as well, finally succumbing to septic shock. His funeral was on March 13th; he was only 48.

Roger was one of my best friends in the world and I will miss him dearly. We shared many adventures together, professionally and personally, over the past 14 years. He is now in a better place, free of the pains and craziness of this world.

Roger Gibson. Friend to the end.

I've decided to share with you the speech I made at his funeral. I hope you all appreciate it.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Where Roger is concerned, I knew him well both as a co-worker and a friend. And, to pique your curiosity, this box that you see here has a part to play in telling you about my good friend but I’ll get to that later.

I first met Roger on August 5th, 2001 when I started working with the company. Roger’s first question to me was not about my work experience or expertise; it was about my residence. He asked me, “Young boy, Ah hear yuh from south. Where yuh really from?”

As fellow southerners, we hit it off almost immediately. At the time Roger was already a fixture in the workplace where he remained right up to the end – arriving at work sometimes well before 5am and swilling huge amounts of coffee. That image of him is one that I’m sure remains with all who knew him will. And let us not forget how at Christmas time he would harass us all for pastelles.

Very difficult to get a picture of Roger smiling.

Over the last 14 years, Roger shared many experiences and adventures at work, all the while maintaining a level of professionalism and commitment that few would be able to emulate. Despite some of the setbacks we faced on the job, he remained loyal throughout, adhering to his principles and core beliefs to the very end.

So that there will be no doubt about the quality of work Roger produced, I’d like to share with you this message I received from a colleague in England when he heard of Roger’s passing and the  funeral arrangements:
“Please pass on my condolences to all concerned. Roger was a star and his work undoubtedly made the world a better place. And I mean the world, not just Trinidad. The results of the work done in Trinidad made ripples throughout the Caribbean, North America and Europe.”

Those 40-odd words speak volumes about the calibre of my friend.

Always on his smartphone ...

On the personal side, the closeness Roger and I shared was almost inevitable; it would not be overstating the case to say that we were like brothers. We shared names, his first name being my middle name; we ate at each other’s homes, drove each other’s vehicles and we sought each other out at times when advice, expertise, support, an attentive ear or a shoulder to lean on was needed. Faithful friend for life and, I think I can say today, after-life was what Roger was to me.

Everyone at work will tell you of the kind of helpful and dedicated person Roger was there. And, if they’re in the mood to be brutally honest, they’ll tell you too of the sharp tongue lashings they would have had to endure from him as well. Not one for niceties in donkey city – a phrase he coined and used quite often – he was not one to sugar-coat his words. I know there are several here today who were told, no punches pulled, that their computer problems existed in the interface between the chair and the keyboard.

So was he a near perfect man? His sharp tongue aside, did he have no shortcomings? Well, one that I can identify was that he was too private. Over the years I learned that he just really hated people being all up in he business. Sure there were times when he was right to take stance but there were others when softening that position would have actually been a benefit to him. That never diminished our love for him and I want to let all of you know that, although he never was able to publicly thank you, he was aware and very appreciative of your support and prayers during his final ordeal.

But I promised to tell you the story of this box. Both our full names have only 11 letters. And one would think that nobody could misspell a simple five-letter surname. But Roger pounded me mercilessly when he saw that someone had handwritten my name as “S-o-c-t-t.” But what goes around comes around. During his hospital stay, I had a prescription filled for him. While walking back to the hospital, I read the label on this box. It read R. G-i-b-b-s-o-n. In the unpleasant atmosphere of that hospital Friday evening, we shared a light-hearted chuckle at his bedside, finally equal as pals whose easy-to-spell names had been butchered.

I still possess the proof. How can someone really misspell Gibson?

Roger left us with many happy moments, experiences and life lessons. Here in my view are two of the more significant ones: Firstly, his last experience should remind us all that tomorrow is never promised to anyone and that we should seize all opportunities presented to us; we never really know when the Lord will decide to call us home. Secondly, it is never too late to try to correct any mistakes that we have made in life. In this I had the pleasure of seeing Roger repair and rekindle a relationship that he himself acknowledged should never have been abandoned. In that regard, I would like on my friend’s behalf to publicly acknowledge and thank Mrs Debra Richards for the care and devotion she showed him in the weeks leading up to his untimely passing.

Finally, I should like to leave you with the following words from Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s The Rime of The Ancient Mariner, which I think in a way aptly sum up my dearly departed friend’s life here on Earth:

And now, all in my own country,
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepp'd forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"
The Hermit cross'd his brow.
"Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?"

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.

We shall never forget you, Roger. May your soul rest in eternal peace.