For you who don't know who David Foster is, you can find the link to his blog on my home page. His writing is inspiring and encouraging. get to know him. Dave lost his battle against RCC last April 15. MJL David Foster died a year ago today. I don’t usually mark the anniversary of a person’s passing but this one means something.
When I heard the news from his wife Sherry, it was as if someone had punched me in the gut. I still can’t recall the day after hearing the news so I gave up trying long ago.
Dave came in to my life several months after I started my journey down the cancer road and he quickly became my muse and my inspiration. We became fast friends, eventually exchanging email after email.
We would write in our blogs and send comments back and forth issuing critiques and stuff. Dave made a point of telling me when he especially liked something and it became a real boost to read what he thought. Once he told me he was a professional writer, I thought sheesh, he was just being nice.
Then one day, he told me I am a writer. Imagine that, I thought. People had told me before I have a way with words and I never really believed it. To hear it from a real pro meant something.
It’s funny how we meet someone who is only around a short while. Dave was in my life just about a year and not a day has passed without his popping into my mind. I will never forget him and I plan to look him up some day so we can go fishing together.
Dave loved writing about his childhood. He told me about a parrot he shot once and I about fell out of my chair. He once told me about a fight his parents had and that about knocked me off my chair. He was a gifted writer who could look at the tree in his yard and write an essay on aging.
One of his best essays is about the time he had a seizure on the way to the hospital. It was amazing.
God, I envied his gift and was jealous that he was lucky enough to do what he loved and be paid to do it. Writing is a vocation I dream of and when I mentioned it to him, Dave told me I had the gift if I went for it. Just had to believe I could do it.
So when I started college, I told Dave I was thinking of taking writing classes. “School’s okay Manuel,” he wrote “but the best way for you to get better at it is to start writing and just keep on doing it.”
We worked off each other. I would read his blog, get an idea, and run with it. He would comment on it via email because he never did figure out how to post a comment on my blog then, he would get an idea from something I wrote and he would run with it. It was an incredibly inspiring friendship in both directions and it was a real blast.
There are many times now when I lack inspiration or the desire to write and I will ask for his help as I prepare to work on a blog post, an essay or a research paper, and he hasn’t let me down yet.
Dave could be tough. He was the kind of man who did not suffer fools and had no problem telling off a person for making what he thought was a stupid comment or just plain wrong. He was what I call my kind of guy. A real man’s man.
God, I miss him still.
Knowing there is life after death gives me comfort. I know Dave is in a good place. He is more than likely hunting and fishing with Gracie and Jeb, his beloved dogs.
And he probably hasn’t stopped smiling since he got to heaven.
David Foster died a year ago today. I don’t usually mark the anniversary of a person’s passing but this one means something.
When I heard the news from his wife Sherry, it was as if someone had punched me in the gut. I still can’t recall the day after hearing the news so I gave up trying long ago.
Dave came in to my life several months after I started my journey down the cancer road and he quickly became my muse and my inspiration. We became fast friends, eventually exchanging email after email.
We would write in our blogs and send comments back and forth issuing critiques and stuff. Dave made a point of telling me when he especially liked something and it became a real boost to read what he thought. Once he told me he was a professional writer, I thought sheesh, he was just being nice.
Then one day, he told me I am a writer. Imagine that, I thought. People had told me before I have a way with words and I never really believed it. To hear it from a real pro meant something.
It’s funny how we meet someone who is only around a short while. Dave was in my life just about a year and not a day has passed without his popping into my mind. I will never forget him and I plan to look him up some day so we can go fishing together.
Dave loved writing about his childhood. He told me about a parrot he shot once and I about fell out of my chair. He once told me about a fight his parents had and that about knocked me off my chair. He was a gifted writer who could look at the tree in his yard and write an essay on aging.
One of his best essays is about the time he had a seizure on the way to the hospital. It was amazing.
God, I envied his gift and was jealous that he was lucky enough to do what he loved and be paid to do it. Writing is a vocation I dream of and when I mentioned it to him, Dave told me I had the gift if I went for it. Just had to believe I could do it.
So when I started college, I told Dave I was thinking of taking writing classes. “School’s okay Manuel,” he wrote “but the best way for you to get better at it is to start writing and just keep on doing it.”
We worked off each other. I would read his blog, get an idea, and run with it. He would comment on it via email because he never did figure out how to post a comment on my blog then, he would get an idea from something I wrote and he would run with it. It was an incredibly inspiring friendship in both directions and it was a real blast.
There are many times now when I lack inspiration or the desire to write and I will ask for his help as I prepare to work on a blog post, an essay or a research paper, and he hasn’t let me down yet.
Dave could be tough. He was the kind of man who did not suffer fools and had no problem telling off a person for making what he thought was a stupid comment or just plain wrong. He was what I call my kind of guy. A real man’s man.
God, I miss him still.
Knowing there is life after death gives me comfort. I know Dave is in a good place. He is more than likely hunting and fishing with Gracie and Jeb, his beloved dogs.
And he probably hasn’t stopped smiling since he got to heaven.