Greg Wright

Today is April 16, 2010. One week ago I learned about the tragic, untimely, and totally unexpected death of my longtime friend Greg. We have known each other for over 20 years. We have gone through our ups and downs, good times and rough times together; and have watched our children grow to adulthood (or almost to adulthood) together.   

In my last conversation with Greg, he was as happy as I have ever seen him. He had been offered, and had taken, an early retirement from his teaching/school administration career; his family had received an inheritance which was taking the pressure off him financially and giving him other exciting opportunities; and he was planning his bright future with the love of his life Louise, his beloved children, nephews, nieces, and grandchildren. He was so full of life and promise, which makes his passing so much harder to accept. Even after a week I am still numb, and feel like a chunk of me has been ripped away. I can barely stifle an uncontrollable fit of sobbing I know lies just beneath the surface of my facade. I am sure many of Greg’s family and friends feel the same. 

How do describe Greg Wright? I have looked on at the comments made on the guest book (what a terrific idea) and have looked at all the cherished pictures posted there which give us such a great glimpse into Greg. I have so many unforgettable memories of him that I could not even begin to jot down on this piece of paper. The comments made that he would give you the shirt off his back, would stop everything to help someone in need, or drop everything to attend to a crying child are certainly true. I have many memories of him doing all these things. 

Sometimes an object gives a good glimpse into the soul of a person. With Greg there are many. The first for me is a handkerchief. Greg always had a handkerchief on hand. If he was wearing shorts or casual pants it was usually hanging out of one of his pockets. Handkerchiefs are an unusual accessory, seldom seen or used by men today. To me they are a relic of the past and more genteel times.  Although my father always carried them as well, something I often thought about when I saw Greg’s handkerchief, his handkerchiefs were used in an entirely different way. To Greg the handkerchief represented his caring touch to the world. I rarely recall him using his handkerchief to clean his glasses, which is why, he would explain, he carried one constantly. 


Instead, the handkerchief was used like a doctor’s stethoscope, a combat medic’s wet compress, or a father’s helping hand to a fallen child. Whenever there was a crying child around Greg, no matter how far away and how unlikely Greg would hear, Greg would miraculously appear and the handkerchief would flash out to wipe away tears as he hugged the injured child. He would then use it to render first aid to clean up scrapes and cuts.  

I recall when Greg agreed to help his niece with her little girl Misi. Greg and Louise agreed to care for Misi as long as needed, no strings attached. Greg was ecstatic to have another child in the house. Anyone who knows Greg knows what a special place in his heart he has for children. When I first met Misi, Greg would hover over her and the second her nose began to run, or her eye began to tear, there was Greg with his handkerchief, letting her know she was loved and well tended. 

When my son Justin had dirty classes or his eyes were clogged due to a tearing problem (almost a constant thing), Greg was there with his handkerchief like a quick draw gunman wiping Justin’s eyes, nose and glasses, letting Justin know just how much he was loved. 

The handkerchief appeared when Greg helped or consoled his beloved children, nephews, nieces, grandchildren, and his many friends’ children. He used it to wipe off Ezra’s golf clubs and golf balls when Greg was teaching Ezra to play golf when he was a young “possible golf prodigy”. The handkerchief came out when Greg was coaching Megan to play baseball, and Sam to improve his game of hoops. It flashed into action when his best friend Mike’s sons, Matthew or Jeremy, took a spill. 

The handkerchief was always at the ready to help a friend. If you were doing manual labor at your house Greg would jump in without asking and work like a madman. The handkerchief would appear to wipe off dirty items that needed to be moved, clear off a surface, or dap off perspiration. 

Greg used his handkerchief to connect to those he loved and those in need. It flashed out when his young students were in need, or a stranger needed a helping hand. He touched so many of us in this way.

I could go on forever about the times I have seen him use the ever present, yet hidden until needed, handkerchief. I will always think of Greg when I see one. As it turns out my oldest son has inherited this habit from Greg. I can only hope that he will use his handkerchief to bring love and solace to those in need, as did Greg. 

Another favorite object of Greg’s was a cigar. Greg had a long time love of cigars. You would always see him with a cigar when he was enjoying himself, or at least planning on enjoying himself. Often times it would not be lit. It was a symbol of leisure for Greg. 

A cigar would always be present when Greg played golf, a lifelong passion at which he was very accomplished. As an aside, although Greg was a very good golfer, he was always very patient and supportive of those of us who were “butchers on the greens”. I spent many of hour crawling though the rough, communing with the rabbits and local fauna looking for my shot gone array, with Greg (his golf ball already on the green) patiently giving me helpful tips on where I should be looking. There would normally be a “slight” bit of razing afterwards, but always in “good form.”

Whenever Greg played golf, one of the first things he would do, even before pulling out a club to warm up, was pull out a cigar. It would be a permanent fixture throughout the game, a constant reminder to Greg, even if he became frustrated with his own game, that he was “having fun.” Greg appreciated the good things and times in life, and always lived to the fullest. This gives me some solace today.

On weekends, there was Greg, working around the house (which he loved to do) cooking at his barbeque, playing with his kids, nephews and nieces, and later his grandkids, a cigar in hand or not far from hand. At his kids’ games and practices the cigar was a fixture as he gave out expert advice on sports, some of which I am not sure he ever played to any great extent. 

When Greg became interested in game birds, there he was building his elaborate aviary with his cigar in hand. Later he could be seen watching and enjoying his birds, his cigar a fixture in his smiling, inquisitive face. 

When Ezra decided to go into business building and selling planter boxes that looked like dump trucks (of which I still have one or two) there was Greg on his trip to Home Depot (a favorite stomping ground) to buy the necessary equipment to outfit his garage like a woodworkers shop, cigar in hand. 

I even think Greg slept with a cigar on his vacation trips. I do not ever recall a time on our trips to Morrow Bay (usually attended by a multitude of Greg’s friends and family) when Greg did not have a cigar. Even when he smoked a cigarette (a habit he would not give up despite all of our urgings) his cigar was at hand or not far away. You could see Greg walking in the bay with the kids giving them lessons about the bay and the life hidden just at the surface; exploring the otter museum; or helping the kids learn to ride bikes or climb the magic tree, always cigar in hand. 

You knew when you saw that cigar that Greg was enjoying himself, even if he was suddenly forced to scold one of the children, something he always did out of love. 

Greg’s life revolved around his 5 children, his wonderful nephews and nieces, his grandchildren and his many adopted children (i.e. any child nearby, and especially the kids of his friends and family). They were his ever ending source of pride, wonderment, and joy (and sometimes consternation). 

He could go on forever about each of their accomplishments. He knew they would all be successful, and appreciated the courses they all took, and are taking (some unique and others not so much) to that end. Greg was the type of person who held himself to a very high standard. He strove to be the best he could at all he did. He imparted this to his children, nephews, nieces, grandkids and adopted children. He was ecstatic when he saw them excel at their chosen endeavors and careers.  He recognized and appreciated this trait in each of you.  Each of you brought him peace and joy when he came to know you were going to do “alright.” He never hesitated to give a helping hand to aid in your success, and there are so many who have benefited from his help and counsel. 

For example, when Megan wanted to play boys baseball in little league, instead of girls softball, there was Greg coaching, cigar in hand,  helping her prepare for what would surely be a college and major league career. When Sam showed a love for basketball, Greg became a basketball coach ready to coach him, and then become his agent in his NBA negotiations.  

When his kids showed an interest in golf, Greg was there taking them to the range, putting them in golf classes and camps, and, as with me, helping me find my errant golf balls. Somehow he had or developed the expertise to be a great coach in every athletic activity, no matter what the sport. He was respected by parents, and with few exceptions was able to control the mob mentality of some of the parents when they got upset at games. 

I will always remember my cigar times with Greg, and will think of him whenever I see one. Because of Greg they will always represent “good times” to me, no matter how bad they are for our health.

Another favorite object of Greg’s was reading material, usually a book or magazine. You would often see Greg with a book or magazine in his pocket, ready to pull it out to read at any opportune moment. There was always a stack of things Greg was reading on his desk, at various locations around his house, and wherever he was staying. He was a voracious reader and was interested, to a deep level, in almost everything. When something struck his interest, he would find a book about it and become an expert. This helped make Greg the terrific life- long teacher he was at heart. 

In fact, in my last conversation with him a few weeks ago, we discussed him going to law school to become a lawyer. He always loved the law and used to ask me give him all my old magazines on the topic. I could not understand how he found the stuff interesting; but he loved it. He is going to make a great lawyer, and I am sure he will be practicing soon in heaven.

I could go on about other favorite objects ad infinitum, and am sure that all who know Greg have your own. He was the kind of person you couldn’t help but love and remember.

There are certain things I know that are helping me get through this time, and especially the writing of this message. I hope they may help you as well. 

First, there is a heaven and Greg is there right now. Do not think for a moment you can slack off Sam.  Your dad will be watching at all times now so do not think you can do anything that he will not know about. Greg had great aspirations for you. You have great gifts and talents. It is about time you put them to use. Make us all proud as your brothers, sisters, and cousins have. 

My mom told me about heaven shortly before she died. After one of her coma like sleeps she woke fully awake and ecstatically happy. She explained that she was just having lunch in heaven with her brother, her mother and Darby Cox, a childhood friend of mine that my mother had known briefly 40 years before. They were trying to convince her to let go of her earthy binds (my words not hers) and come to heaven to be with them. She described the event not as a dream but a real, in person meeting. I do not know if I had ever seen her so happy, despite her severe health condition. She was actually surprised when she awoke in her bed. She was so happy to know there was such a place and that all were waiting for her. 

When she mentioned Darby Cox I was completely perplexed because no one in our family had heard anything about him in over 30 years. I knew my mom’s brother and mom had passed, but did not know why Darby Cox came up completely “out of the blue.” My mom passed a few hours after her meeting with them. 

Months later when I was relaying the story about my mom’s meeting I was told, “Didn’t you know Darby Cox passed away about 5 years ago, however there is no way your mom could have known about that.” The hair on the back of my neck stood up at the comment. If she had learned about his death earlier she would have certainly told me long before her last “meeting” with him. The only way she knew he had passed was because he was at that meeting. 

Since that time many things have happened to me to confirm that there is a heaven. Based on what my mom told me, I plan to try to live my to make sure I get there. I look forward to playing golf with Greg when I get there. 

Second, I know Greg is in heaven right now watching us. He has his day planned. After he makes his first appearance as an attorney, it will be off to the golf course to teach a children’s golf class and then play 36 holes, cigar in hand, handkerchief in pocket. Then it will be off to one of his many other hobbies, some he participated down here, others he always wanted to practice but did not have the time. 

He will check in on all of us, and do all he can to help us through this tough time. He will pull out his handkerchief to dry our tears, so don’t be surprised if you feel like someone is tenderly wiping your face with a soft piece of cloth. He won’t be surprised that we question why he had to be taken so soon since he always taught us to use our minds to question what we do not understand- always the teacher. By the way he will be wearing his Hawaiian shirt for today’s gathering as well. 

Greg, even with all my hard learned knowledge that you are in a better place, I will miss you with all my heart. This world will not be the same place without you, and we will always miss your sense of humor; your unbridled willingness to lend a hand or give support; your unfathomed acceptance of others no matter what we do; your way of treating everyone with care and compassion no matter how badly we have, or are, screwing up; your passion for life; and your passion of your many loved ones. You were always a better friend to me than I could be to you, something I will have to live with. I hope to make it up to you at our next golf game- you get 5 mulligans. God bless you and your family and friends. You did a great job down here, and made such a positive difference in so many lives. Enjoy your new careers and hobbies.  

We will try to carry on in your absence, but it is just not going to be the same.

Greg Wright was a wonderful human being who I will miss with all my heart and soul.  He was like a beloved uncle to my kids, Alec, Taryn, Justin and Elise and a great friend to my husband, Joe.  Our families grew up together, and I am blessed having met him through his wife, and my college roommate, Louise.  He touched all our lives in a special way, and the world is a better place because he was here.  Poppy, we love you and miss you. The Baer Family (Pollock Pines, CA)

My brother, my best friend growing up. I'll miss you more than you can imagine! I loved you then, I love you now, I'll love you forever!

Greg was an outgoing, friendly person who would give you the shirt off his back, if necessary.  Our friendship with him has given us many good memories.  He will always be in our hearts and thoughts.

OBITUARY

Greg Wright

October 18, 1949 – April 8, 2010

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