requiem for bob edwards

As I sit listening to John Coltrane playing "Out of This World" I'm dealing with a morning-after reaction to the loss of a dear friend, James Robert "Bob" Edwards.
He passed away last night, sadly alone in a rehabilitation center where he ended up after a traffic accident around Thanksgiving. Somehow I knew when I saw the call was from Dru Patterson, a friend of ours, that would be the the deal. It was late last night. Dru doesn't call me at night.
Bob, born on the fourth of July, was 80-years old, a Navy veteran and a great American.
I had met him about five years ago and we grew close. He was a confidante, a drinking buddy, a fellow lover of jazz music and a near, dear, trusted friend.
He was one of the jazziest people I know.
He never met a stranger. He was open minded and young at heart. He knew how to establish common ground with people. He would help you before he would hurt you.
Bob, as meticulous as they come, was a sharp dresser and a connoisseur of fine food and drink.
He was no pushover, though. He was very opinionated and, most importantly, he had the strength of his convictions. He marched to his own drummer. The beats he heard came from the rich life he had lived traveling the world, raising a family, being an astute businessman, and making friends wherever he went.
Listening to Trane while writing this put me in touch with Bob. His version of "Out of This World" is full of intensity, beauty, warmth, insight and depth in its long, rambling exploration.
Just like Bob.
I'm missing him already. But that 's only in the flesh.
Like Trane, his spirit will always be around.
Rest easy, my man. Keep swingin'.