J.N.

Yesterday morning, I had to tell my dad that his best friend passed away. So that happened. It was one of those moments that makes you feel like a real-life, grown-ass adult and not in a good way.

This man and my dad had gone jogging or walking together almost every day for over 30 years, up until the Paradise Camp Fire. They were next-door neighbors from 1992 to 2018, right up until both of their homes burned to the ground. And then they moved to different places.

This man’s son was my first boyfriend. That’s who texted me to tell me the sad news and asked me if I would let my dad know. Selfishly, part of me was a little pissed off. I didn’t want to be the one to have to tell my dad that. But I realized that if it was one less person that he had to tell, it was the least I could do for him. I’ve never had to deliver news like that before, and I don’t look forward to doing it again.

When I was dating his son, if I was over at their home in the evening, this man used to make me sit through family devotions with them. I hated it. I was 16 and it was torturously boring. Today, my husband and I do a family devotional with our children every single night.

This man was the OB/GYN who delivered my sister at the hospital in Paradise, before it burned down.

This man presented family vacation slideshows in his living room and they were so long and so boring and every time I remember them, it makes me smile. My oldest son just found a slide projector at a thrift store where he volunteers and it immediately took me back to this man’s living room sitting on the floor watching pictures of archeological sites in the holy land.

This man gave his two sons each two middle names. My children each have two middle names.

This man was my ophthalmologist from the time I was two years old until I was in my late 20s. He gave me my first real job and my first real paycheck at his ophthalmology practice in Paradise when I was 16-years-old.

This man used to host Shabbat shalom dinners in his home on Friday evenings every once in a while. He and his wife served a glorious feast and lit candles. The adults always talked forever and my sister and I thought we would die from boredom. Today, my husband and I serve a Shabbat shalom dinner every single Friday evening, we light candles.

This man was one of the kindest and most generous people that I have had the privilege of knowing. May he rest in peace until the second coming of our Lord and Savior. In heaven, I will tell him that all of those “boring” things that I hated at the time, actually made a huge impact on my life and lives of my children.

You never know how what you do today, might impact someone’s life in the future.