Remembering a great man

By Fredie Carmichael
Editor@themeridianstar.com
My world feels void of something meaningful ... something I feel is likely commonplace the past few days in our community.
Bill McBride, who passed away over the weekend after a short bout with illness, was someone I will forever hold dear to my heart. I still can't believe he's gone.
It took me a while to work up the courage to write. Part of me didn't want to believe he was gone, so hard to write about him in the past tense. Another part of me felt as though my words couldn't possibly convey anything close to what my heart feels. I want to do this man, my friend, justice with words.
But how do you put into words what he meant to so many ... it's impossible.
Bill McBride was one of a kind and true "believer" of this community. For those who only heard criticisms, you weren't listening to Bill. His heart was for the progress of this community. And he lived it.
If you want to talk about someone who loves their community, don't pony up someone who only talks glaringly about their community and ignores the problems— show me a man like Bill McBride.
Show me a man who spent Saturdays planting flowers at a neglected park.
Show me a man so involved in the restoration of a local cemetery that he volunteered his time to plant bulbs there every spring and fall, and conducted tours for organizations and schools.
Show me a man that, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, served as shelter manager for the American Red Cross at his church.
Show me a man that defined volunteerism by doing something most don't ... getting his hands dirty and working.
Show me a true patriot who proudly served his country in the U.S. Navy for 30 years.
Show me a man who would look you directly in the eye and passionately express his opinion ... while also listening and respecting your opinion, even if it opposed his.
Show me a man that constantly lifted others ahead of himself.
Show me a true man of God ... not a phony, self-righteous Christian who had all the right things to say, but a man who was equally comfortable displaying his faults in a profound example of how God works in our lives. A man more concerned about helping his fellow man and showing God's love through his actions than pretending to be perfect.
Show me a man who drew attention to others, never looking for the credit.
After all of that, show me a man courageous enough to look that community in the face and tell it what it needs to be doing to reach its full potential.
Show me a man who cares enough to examine and investigate its problems in an effort to reach a solution.
Show me a man with heart, substance, honor and respect.
Bill McBride was, in short, a man I will constantly aim to be like. He leaves shoes impossible to fill.
I could give you countless stories of why Bill has a special place in my heart, stories of true compassion, caring, brilliance, and humor. Instead, I'll leave you with something I've struggled with the past few days ... something that perfectly illustrates who Bill McBride was to me.
It was my last encounter with Bill on his radio show two weeks ago. I walked in and saw Bill, frail from his treatment, his oxygen tank next to him with tubes in his nose. I went white. I was distraught seeing him in that condition.
Bill sensed my shock and, instead of complaining about his condition, reassured me he was OK.
"I'm fine buddy ... doc told me I could eat all I want and do everything I could until I get tired," he said with smile.
"I wish they'd diagnosed me sooner," he joked.
His main goal was to put me at ease, never wanting to draw attention to his condition. He looked in my eyes and saw my worry; he wanted to ease that.
As I left, I leaned over to tell him I loved him and I was here if he needed anything. He looked at me as he always did — with sincerity in his eyes — and simply said, "thanks." Then he joked off his condition again.
"This won't slow me down," he joked.
I've struggled with that for days because I didn't realize how serious his condition was. I should have done more. I could have done more for him.
But tonight at Bill's visitation, I realized one thing: Bill hasn't gone anywhere.
He's still deep inside everyone of us he touched along the way.
I can smile tonight knowing one thing: Bill hasn't slowed yet, he's just getting started.