Gone Too Soon — Remembering Robert

 

A firm, friendly and fair father, and a friend to many expats and locals alike, has left us too soon.

There are some people whose passing does more than bring sadness. It creates a silence. It leaves an empty space where strength, kindness, fairness and familiarity once stood.

Robert was one of those people.

His passing is difficult to comprehend because men of his character often seem as though they will simply always be there. They become part of the landscape of our lives — familiar, dependable and constant. They are the people we expect to see tomorrow, the people whose presence quietly reassures us that some things in this world are still solid.

And then suddenly, they are gone.

Robert leaves behind his mother, his children, family, friends and countless people whose paths crossed his over the years. For them, the loss cannot adequately be expressed in words. A mother has lost her son. Children have lost their father. Friends have lost a friend. And our wider community has lost a man whose character deserves to be remembered.

Robert was a stalwart of a man.

Not because he needed to announce himself as one, but because of the way he carried himself.

He could be firm without being cruel.

He could command respect without demanding it.

He could stand his ground without seeking to humiliate another person.

He could deal with people from different countries, cultures, backgrounds and walks of life while remembering one simple truth that society sometimes forgets:

We are all human beings first.

That is perhaps one of the greatest things that can be said about Robert.

To many expatriates, he was a friend. To many locals, he was a friend. There did not need to be an invisible line separating the two. He understood people as people, and he treated them accordingly.

In a world increasingly divided by nationality, status, race, class, politics and circumstance, Robert demonstrated something profoundly important through the simplicity of his character: humanity does not require us to be identical. It simply requires us to respect one another.

Those who knew him will remember a man with seemingly not a malicious bone in his body.

That does not mean he was weak.

Quite the opposite.

There is tremendous strength in remaining a decent person in a world that constantly gives us reasons to become hardened.

There is strength in being fair when being unfair would be easier.

There is strength in being approachable when you have authority.

There is strength in treating people with dignity when you have absolutely nothing to gain from doing so.

And there is strength in leaving people with good memories of you when your time on this earth is finished.

That is leadership.

True leadership is not merely a position, a title, a uniform, a business card or the authority to tell others what to do. Leadership is ultimately measured by the effect our presence has on other human beings.

Did we make people feel smaller, or did we allow them to retain their dignity?

Did we create fear, or did we create respect?

Did we divide people, or did we bring people together?

Did we leave bitterness behind, or did we leave memories that make people smile even through their tears?

By those measures, Robert’s life carries a lesson for all of us.

Perhaps the greatest tribute we can pay to someone after they have gone is not simply to say that they were a good person.

It is to ask ourselves whether we can become a little more like them.

A little fairer.

A little kinder.

A little more understanding.

A little less judgmental.

A little more willing to see the human being before we see the nationality, occupation, social standing or circumstances.

Because eventually, every one of us will leave.

And when that day comes, our possessions will remain behind. Our titles will belong to someone else. The positions we occupied will be filled. Life will continue moving.

What will remain is how we treated people.

That becomes our true legacy.

Robert leaves this world far too soon, and there are undoubtedly conversations his family still wanted to have with him, moments his children still deserved to share with their father, and years his mother, family and friends would have wished to have beside him.

That is what makes loss so painful.

Death does not consult our calendars.

It does not wait until every conversation has been completed, every dream fulfilled or every goodbye properly spoken.

It simply reminds those of us who remain that life is extraordinarily fragile.

So today, while we mourn Robert, perhaps we should also remember the example he leaves behind.

Be firm, but be fair.
Be strong, but remain kind.
Lead, but never forget your humanity.
Respect people regardless of where they come from.
And live in such a way that when your chair is finally empty, people remember not merely what you did — but the kind of human being you were.

Robert achieved something that money cannot purchase and titles cannot guarantee.

He earned respect.

And perhaps that is why his departure hurts so much.

A good man has gone.

A father has gone.

A son has gone.

A friend has gone.

A familiar presence in the lives of many has gone.

But the example of the man does not have to disappear with him.

To his mother, his children, his family, his friends, and everyone mourning his passing, may the memories created during his lifetime eventually bring some comfort through the pain of his absence.

And to Robert:

Thank you for the conversations.

Thank you for the friendship.

Thank you for the fairness.

Thank you for showing, simply through the way you lived and treated others, something humanity desperately needs more of.

Decency.

Gone too soon, Robert.

But certainly not forgotten.

May you rest in eternal peace.