Just to fill in a few of the blanks. He was diagnosed with Stage 4 brain and lung cancer back on March 24, 2007. Despite the dire predictions of four to six weeks to live, Rick soldiered forward. He took the brave step, despite the original doctor's directions, to go to the National Institute of Health to seek another opinion. They said he might be a good candidate for chemotherapy. And Rick, without one word of complaint went ahead.

He received treatment three times a week through October, and was told he'd gone into remission. But the break was short lived, and by Thanksgiving, he had to resume chemo. He never complained. He just did it. But finally his brave heart could continue no more, and on December 10th, he announced that he would stop chemo.

He moved from his house in Springfield into my parents' house in Amherst. But as his cancer progressed, he became too much of a challenge for them in their advancing years, and he moved into Hospice of the Hills in Lynchburg on December 20th. He remained in good spirits, alert, and interested until last Thursday. Then, he lost the ability to stand and walk, and finally, the ability to talk. I saw him last Saturday, and when the nurse asked him if he knew who was sitting in the room with him, he mumbled, "Michael." When I went back the next day, he was completely immobile, asleep, and I think, his brilliant mind couldn't any longer compute thoughts. I told him I'd come to say goodbye, that I loved him and not to talk, to go back to sleep, and to sleep well, faithful servant.

My parents, Whitey & Bonnie, Anne & Pat, my sister, Anita, brother-in-law Lou, and my little family here in Hampton Roads have been heroic. Their grace has been a strength to me.

Something that also comforted me as I drove home Sunday was, of all things, a lyric from one of my favorite albums of Rick's from when I was a kid, which I borrowed often. It was "Sweet Baby James" by James Taylor. Had it on the car cd player as I passed through the foothills of the Shenandoahs. And on "Carolina in My Mind," it says: "There ain't no doubt in no one's mind that love's the finest thing around. Whisper something warm and kind." I don't think it's a coincidence that I happened to realize those words at exactly that moment in time.

Richard Russell Gooding. Riki Dog, The Legendary Funster of Old Town. AHS '73, GMU '77, son, brother, uncle, my best man, 52 years young.