John was 5 years old when his dad died. Shot, in a case of mistaken identity that shook the small Ga town of Camilla where he lived. Gene lost his mom to cancer. His dad was so overcome with grief that he took his own life the same day. Phil was a junior in high school in Fitzgerald, Ga.

By divine providence, John and Gene, two small town young men with loads of loss, were in the Wesley Foundation at UGA and assigned to be roommates. Their difficult fatherless stories bonded them into the best of friends. John was on the road to become a teacher. Gene a preacher. Both used their loss and pain to help others. Both had eyes to see big needs among hurting people. They were called to transform their own losses into healing. Their faith was, and still is, the bedrock of their friendship.

John, while on the job hunt, stopped by Gene’s place en route to an interview for a principal job a couple of counties over. Gene mentioned that he thought his own county needed a principal. He made a few calls. Made an introduction. The rest is Lumpkin County history. John was the high school principal for the next 30 years. He relocated his family to Dahlonega and there he remains to this day. Gene was the pastor of the Methodist Church in town but moved often, as Methodist pastors do. Yet, he kept a cabin a Camp Glisson as a retreat and came regularly back to Dahlonega for visits. These best friends were united in heart, so distance didn’t dampen their friendship.

Loss did not leave them alone of course. No life can escape it. Each man lost a child as well. John lost his two-year-old namesake to meningitis. Gene lost a grown son to cancer. They were on parallel tracks and held there by hope alone. Clinging to their faith in hard times and good ones, too. Now, they are in their nineties. Phone calls have been regular communication in the last few years because distances traveled take a toll these days. Gene isn’t doing so well. His family called John to say if you want to see him again, you best come now.

John’s daughter drove him to see Gene in person one last time. It was a sweet reunion. Stories were in abundance. Memories of sweet college days at UGA playing ping pong, and going to football games. There were both laughter and tears aplenty. Their minds rehashed raising families and their careers of service. Two lifetimes woven together. Almost inseparable in their similarities. Certainly, God had ordained this friendship…given these two men to each other as gifts, so they would know they were never alone. So, they could hold one another up. So, they could heal and encourage others through this thing we call life.

At the end of the visit, Gene told John goodbye for the last time. He said he couldn’t have asked for a better friend. John was his brother in heart and in Christ. He expressed his love and thanked him for being such a good friend. Gene told John he would see him when he got to heaven. They hugged goodbye through tears and fondness that always follows friendships that last a lifetime.  

Two men who started as boys wounded by life. Now at the end, showing the next generation — my generation — how to end well. As our parents age and leave us, we get a front row seat to watch how they go. We get to see what is truly important and what doesn’t matter. If we take their lessons to heart, our own next season will be less contentious and more intentional.  We will not fear death, but will use its coming to love well. We will tell those we love how much they mean to us. Like John and Gene.