I first met Richard (not his real name) in the fall of 2010. I had just joined a club and his golf group. He was a large, plodding man who enjoyed walking the golf course while guiding his battery powered golf cart around via remote control, sometimes with comic results such as dumping his cart and clubs into a sand trap. He always blamed the mishap on a malfunctioning remote controller. Oh sure, Richard. We shared one common quirk on the golf course. We both wore Sketchers walking sneakers (50 bucks!!!!) while everyone else wore various expensive brands of soft-spike golf shoes. Comfort over image and style.
I knew from the outset that Richard was the retired president of one of America’s premier public engineering universities and served 14 years as such. The school has been rated the #1 engineering university by at least one higher education ranking source. He retired with the title of Chancellor Emeritus, has a building at the university named after him and has more degrees, earned and honorary, than a thermometer.
But it wasn’t until I joined a men-only (no yucky women allowed, heh) luncheon discussion group that I got to know just how brilliant Richard was. When it came to ANY subject related to STEM and he was talking, the watchwords were ….. “Shut up and listen.” Once I gave a pitch on nuclear energy and noticed that Richard was smiling and nodding with approval. After lunch, he complimented me and added a few important pointers I hadn’t included. It was like a “wise professor and promising student” moment, but with a twist. I was in my late 60s; he 10 years my senior. From that point on, we always shared some one-on-one time after lunch. Our conversations were on a wide range of subjects and truly delightful and educational.
Then an email arrived on an early Saturday afternoon in late summer of 2013. Richard and his wife Mary (not her true name) had committed mutual suicide by drowning themselves in their backyard swimming pool that very morning. I was stunned and shocked. The emails and phone calls started to fly. Richard was in perfect health. But not Mary. She was dying from Stage 4 cancer and in great pain, hidden from all but their children. Nearly empty pain killer med containers were found by the poolside. Details on how they drowned themselves surfaced. Richard and Mary had a quiet evening dinner just the evening before at the club, where many members stopped by to chat. All proved to be true.
That incident continues to haunt me. It is clear that Richard did not wish to live without his wife and lifelong soul mate, despite his top-shelf professional accomplishments and deep respect from those who knew him. None of that mattered. All that mattered to him was he was losing his beloved. Period. It is my wish, hopefully, that you just read a 21st Century version of “Romeo and Juliet, Senior Style.”
I also wish, however selfishly, that he were still here.
