Post by Jet on Nov 12, 2014 22:22:01 GMT -6
Five years ago, right around the Georgia game, I posted on HABOTN about my friend Keith. At that point, he was in his upper 40s with one son at Auburn, one in high school and one in middle school. An active guy, he was the picture of health. Except one day, he noticed his face was drooping a little and was having a little trouble speaking. That night, he fell in the stands at a high school football game. On the following Monday, he went to the doctor. That led to tests and the discovery of the worst kind of brain tumor you can have -- the kind that usually kills you in less than a year.
Keith had surgery to remove what could be removed, then underwent radiation. He vowed to fight for his family's sake, but said all along that either way he was good because of his unshakeable faith in God. If anybody deserved to be depressed, to be angry, to feel cheated, it was Keith. He spent his work life as a youth minister and a missionary, working for Christian-type of Habitat for Humanity that built homes and churches all over this hemisphere. At least so I thought. He taught me better. He taught me it was a journey to be faced with joy and a challenge to be embraced with courage, knowing that victory awaited.
Keith was an Auburn fan and an Auburn man. I met him through a mutual friend in 1993 ... we traveled as a group to the Georgia game together. One of the group was covering the game for the local rag. As the tickets were doled out, Keith and I sat in the upper deck -- the same one where I will sit Saturday night. We had a blast. He was the kind of person that wanted to hear your problems, help you out and make you feel better. He believed in being kind to others -- period.
After the 2009 season, and following his surgery, I drove him over to Auburn for a worthless December basketball game against Alabama State. We both realized that it could be his final Auburn event. When we walked out of Beard-Eaves, he pointed at Jordan-Hare, and said, "Tighten your turban, cuz. You gotta get that done for me." And he smiled. I choked a little and said "We will."
After Wes Byrum kicked the winning field goal in Arizona, and after everyone had gone to bed. I cried. I cried because Keith had fought through the horrible treatments and side effecgs, and lived to see it. And I cried because I missed my dad.
As for Keith, he kept fighting and fighting. Ups and downs through various treatments -- some experimental -- he kept fighting and smiling. . All to be there for his family.
I choked up a little more last November 30 -- actually December 1 by that point -- when I thought about Keith smiling broadly at the Kick Six.
Keith beat the odds by four years. The statistical chance of him living five years was about the same as a game ending on a 109-yard missed field goal return.
He passed away tonight. An amazing man.
I can only hope to be half the man he was.
Keith had surgery to remove what could be removed, then underwent radiation. He vowed to fight for his family's sake, but said all along that either way he was good because of his unshakeable faith in God. If anybody deserved to be depressed, to be angry, to feel cheated, it was Keith. He spent his work life as a youth minister and a missionary, working for Christian-type of Habitat for Humanity that built homes and churches all over this hemisphere. At least so I thought. He taught me better. He taught me it was a journey to be faced with joy and a challenge to be embraced with courage, knowing that victory awaited.
Keith was an Auburn fan and an Auburn man. I met him through a mutual friend in 1993 ... we traveled as a group to the Georgia game together. One of the group was covering the game for the local rag. As the tickets were doled out, Keith and I sat in the upper deck -- the same one where I will sit Saturday night. We had a blast. He was the kind of person that wanted to hear your problems, help you out and make you feel better. He believed in being kind to others -- period.
After the 2009 season, and following his surgery, I drove him over to Auburn for a worthless December basketball game against Alabama State. We both realized that it could be his final Auburn event. When we walked out of Beard-Eaves, he pointed at Jordan-Hare, and said, "Tighten your turban, cuz. You gotta get that done for me." And he smiled. I choked a little and said "We will."
After Wes Byrum kicked the winning field goal in Arizona, and after everyone had gone to bed. I cried. I cried because Keith had fought through the horrible treatments and side effecgs, and lived to see it. And I cried because I missed my dad.
As for Keith, he kept fighting and fighting. Ups and downs through various treatments -- some experimental -- he kept fighting and smiling. . All to be there for his family.
I choked up a little more last November 30 -- actually December 1 by that point -- when I thought about Keith smiling broadly at the Kick Six.
Keith beat the odds by four years. The statistical chance of him living five years was about the same as a game ending on a 109-yard missed field goal return.
He passed away tonight. An amazing man.
I can only hope to be half the man he was.
