We lost a friend this weekend, and I just wanted to share to everyone who didn’t know him what a great person Gareth was. This isn’t going to be eloquent, I just need to get the words out.
We’ve known Gareth for, gosh, I guess at least 11 years? I’m not really sure. I do remember the first conversation I ever had with him. It was about our wedding planning, and he was telling me something about the royal wedding. You know, the Charles and Diana one. I don’t remember what he told me about it, though. Just that we chatted about it.
Our wedding was just a couple of months after Katrina, and he’d stayed behind for the storm. Anytime our wedding came up in conversation later, he’d always say, “Pammy…that was the best wedding ever. Great party.” So many people needed the celebration, not least of all him.
I searched my blog for a mention of Gareth, and the only one I found was that he came to visit me in the hospital before I had the boys. Because that’s the kind of guy he was, even though I’m sure he’d have rather been anywhere else on earth.
When the neighborhood was raising funds for a friends’ son’s surgery, Gareth showed us all up by donating a huge amount. He had been saving it up for something special, but gave it to the surgery fund instead. He was so generous in that way.
In July, there was a Proms-themed birthday party for friends at the pub. July in New Orleans. The man wore a suit, vest, and tie in the sweltering heat, because that’s what a gentleman wears to the Proms, and to honor his dear friends.
Gareth had two dogs, Owen and Lizzie. They were always with him. They are the sweetest dogs, and the first dogs the boys were not scared of. (Don’t worry, Owen and Lizzie are being well taken care of now.)
Anyway. There are a million stories to be told. A million memories. A million laughs.
Cheers, you crazy Welshman. We’ll miss you so much.