A Good Man

They say you just can’t keep a good man down. That could have been said about my friend, Pete, who died from cancer last week. I met Haral Pederson at work eight years ago. He told me that his friends called him “Pete” so he was always “Pete” to me.

The memorable thing about Pete is that he had a life well lived. He lived fully right up to the last days of his life. He was a great example of hope and perseverance. He enjoyed his garden, his painting, his gambling and his ice cream. He kept going, he stayed active, long after most people would have confined themselves to bed.

I remember lots of things about Pete:

I remember him telling me that he snuck away from his wife, Julie, in the middle of the night to go gambling at the casino. A couple of years later, after he was so sick he couldn’t drive; I said “I guess you’re not going to be sneaking off to go gambling anymore.” “No, I guess not,” he said.

I remember how long he kept coming to work after he was sick. He said it made him feel better to be there.

I remember when I took him out to Pappadeux’s for lunch shortly after he found out that the cancer came back, again. He said, “I don’t want to talk about cancer,” and so we didn’t.

It was my mission to cheer him up. I told him many of my secrets. I told him things that I would never dare to tell a married man from work. I told him how I thought there might be a serious relationship in my future with the guy in the office next to him. I broke all of my rules with him. I thought, “What difference does it make? This guy is going to die soon and he will take all of my secrets to the grave.” Then when he seemed to be getting better, I told him, “After everything that I’ve told you, if you don’t die, I’m going to have to kill you.” I needn’t have worried, he lived for several years after that but he never betrayed my trust.

The hopeful thing about Pete’s story is that a person can be ravaged by cancer but not give into it. He knew that cancer would take his life, but he never let it take over his life. He lived his life as long as he possibly could. He didn’t ask for sympathy, he just wanted to keep living.

He kept living by always having a goal. A few years ago, he wanted to live long enough for his daughter’s wedding. He rode his wheelchair down the aisle and gave Erika away in July, 2005. She got pregnant the next year and he wanted to live long enough to see his granddaughter. Aubrey was born in July, 2007. This past fall, September 2008, he wanted to go to the beach one more time. His son, Trey, went with him to Destin Beach, Florida. In December, Pete told me he wanted to go to the casino again. His brother took him soon after that. Earlier this month, he was lying in bed during our visit because he was too weary to sit up. After we had been there an hour, he said, “Let’s go get ice cream.” He seemed to think that he was perfectly capable of getting out of bed and taking a ride to Braum’s. I convinced him to let my husband, Marty (the guy who used to be in the office next to Pete) go and bring us back some ice cream. When Marty returned, Pete ate a big bowl of chocolate almond.

When I was a kid I remember seeing a book on my dad’s shelf. It was a book by Norman Vincent Peale entitled “Stay Alive All Your Life.” That book could have been written about my friend, Pete, because that’s what he did.