I loved Ken, as did so many. He made me laugh, made feel special, never made me feel awkward in my awkwardness.

I received a letter in the mail from a name I didn’t immediately recognize. Upon reading the note card–written on both sides–I recalled her as a childhood friend of Ken‘s, and one who’d seen him through his first cancer diagnosis at around the age of fourteen. Though we’d never met I’d heard from Ken and his mom about how special she was and how close she and Ken were.

This letter was part of an impressive 50th birthday effort by her, to write to 50 people who had influenced her life and helped to shape her into who she is.

As a carrier of Ken’s legacy, I was so honored to be given a glimpse into their relationship and its long-felt impact.  It reminded me of bigger things. Important things. That life is about connecting with each other. Helping and teaching and listening to one another. Selfishly, it always gives me “warm fuzzies” when someone mentions him, references him or, in this striking case, pays homage to his hallmarks: positivity, courage, humor and an immutable ability to connect with people.

I’ve thought of him a lot lately since the death of my dad. But still–unfailingly–Ken still presents me with answers to the questions I pose. Loving him and losing him were experiences that–beyond the sadness and pain–were infused with knowledge, wisdom, experience. I can’t change the past, but what I can do is be grateful for what I’ve learned, knowing it can help me help my mother and sisters. Clearly, his influence has rippled out in all directions, and today’s note was proof positive. It will lovingly be placed into my treasure box of notes and cards from and about him.

As for the quote above, I think anyone who loved Ken could say the same exact thing about him, me included. And, really, who could ask for more than having someone like that in your life…if even for a second?