I’m not entirely certain what the saints and angels are up to these days, but they seriously need to lay off with the taking of the best and brightest souls.
Jeffrey Smith died yesterday morning, after a multi-decades long battle with cancer (cancers, really), and a lightning-fast stint with hospice care. The hospice seemed so, so short- maybe in comparison with his unfairly long battle, but in actuality probably because there would never be a good time to say goodbye to this incredible guy.
Jef was my pal but, more importantly, he fit with one of my best friends in a way that not even Rubik could’ve imagined. He was the white pegs in their perfectly matched game of Battleship. If Kat was the colorful scenery in a 1,000 piece puzzle, then Jef was the corner pieces, the stray animals, and a good section of the table holding the entire shebang up. (Forgive the lengthiness of that metaphor- I really, really think Jef would’ve dug it so I couldn’t help myself.)
Selfishly, I’m grieving my friend and the “uncle” that my kids downright adored.
I love this picture: Are they singing happy birthday or is he herding cats?
He presented baby Nora with a punk rock primer he created entitled Stomp & Twirl. (And you know what? It’s one of the best damn CDs I’ve ever put into rotation.) He gave toddler Zu a progressive coloring book called Sometimes the Spoon Runs Away With Another Spoon. And when he stayed with us- just this past December- he gave Jasper a robot-festooned apron with his own pouch for tiny cooking utensils. (“Because a guy’s got to have his own tools.”) I mean, really. Wouldn’t you do anything for an uncle like that? An uncle who really listens when a little kid talks- who really remembers those conversations for future chats and hanging out?
When I was in my third trimester with Jasper and had a last-minute doctor’s appointment, Jef stayed with Nora and Susannah. “You’re sure you’re good?” “Oh, we’ve got this.” When I returned home an hour and a half later, they were drinking juice boxes, viewing The Great Mouse Detective, and singing rousing choruses of “Oh Ratigan!”
When Nora expressed an interest in graphic novels, Jef immediately sent over lists upon lists of kid-friendly comic books and online resources and asked- really asked– Nora’s opinions of the titles she was reading.
He knew so much. About classic movies and software emulators and just the coolest Chicago trivia from way back in the day. Talking with him was an absolute joy. He was such a fun houseguest, the kind you wanted to stay up late and just nerd out with.
The last time we saw him, we made plans for a summer visit. He wanted to bring his beloved pup Radar out for a road trip (and he’d bring Kat too, I imagine, but we were finally gonna get to meet his pup!) and he hugged us all tightly goodbye. Right before he left, he gifted us some super serious slipper socks. Four pairs, in fact! (“Guys, these are just great slipper socks. I wear them all the time.”) He was totally right.
He knew he was sick again. We all did. The tired guy sharing meals with us wasn’t about to break out into song during that trip- but we had hope that we’d have a little more time.
That Kat and Jef would have a little more time in their new house. With their dog and kitties and the beautiful nature they adored so much. With their friends and loved ones who were far-flung, nearby, and everywhere in between.
But for having such a finite amount of time, he sure did some good work.
So thanks, Jef. Thanks for spending a little bit of that time with us and making us part of your family.
We’ll miss you like crazy.
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