Today I got the news. An old law school classmate came up to me and asked, of our mutual friend, "Did you hear about Gatewood?" Well, "no" I replied, totally uncertain about what would come next. "He died in his sleep last night."
I was saddened more than shocked by Gatewood's untimely passing. He was a third year law student when I was in my first, and we had become friends. He was a larger-than-life character even then. Big smile, constant witticisms, a kind word for everyone he met, (prosecutors excepted :)). He was Jagger-esque in his youth but oddly reminded me of my own father later in his life.
Gatewood was one of the most honest, genuine and sincere people I ever knew. We always shared a good laugh together and had many philosophico-political discussions. We agreed on much (using the power of the state to improve education and provide social services to the most vulnerable, legalization and market maximization of hemp--I once gave him what would become his favorite sportcoat made out of hemp that was actually a good seller in our store); and we were respectful in our divergences.
Gatewood was a fine father to his daughters, a doting son to his mother, a good friend to all who crossed his path, a fearless and effective advocate for clients lucky enough to have him on their side, and a visionary politician whose ideas will gain strength long after his campaigns have ended.
I miss him already, and am so sorry I did not have at least one more slap-on-the-back love in with my old friend, to tell him how proud I was of his spirit, leadership and passion.
If something uplifting can come from so untimely a death, let it be a resolve to reach out, to call a friend or family member I hadn't spoken to in a while, to tell EVERYBODY what they mean to me and to others. To spend time every day truly appreciating the gift of life and the critical importance of using it not just for myself, but also for others.
I was saddened more than shocked by Gatewood's untimely passing. He was a third year law student when I was in my first, and we had become friends. He was a larger-than-life character even then. Big smile, constant witticisms, a kind word for everyone he met, (prosecutors excepted :)). He was Jagger-esque in his youth but oddly reminded me of my own father later in his life.
Gatewood was one of the most honest, genuine and sincere people I ever knew. We always shared a good laugh together and had many philosophico-political discussions. We agreed on much (using the power of the state to improve education and provide social services to the most vulnerable, legalization and market maximization of hemp--I once gave him what would become his favorite sportcoat made out of hemp that was actually a good seller in our store); and we were respectful in our divergences.
Gatewood was a fine father to his daughters, a doting son to his mother, a good friend to all who crossed his path, a fearless and effective advocate for clients lucky enough to have him on their side, and a visionary politician whose ideas will gain strength long after his campaigns have ended.
I miss him already, and am so sorry I did not have at least one more slap-on-the-back love in with my old friend, to tell him how proud I was of his spirit, leadership and passion.
If something uplifting can come from so untimely a death, let it be a resolve to reach out, to call a friend or family member I hadn't spoken to in a while, to tell EVERYBODY what they mean to me and to others. To spend time every day truly appreciating the gift of life and the critical importance of using it not just for myself, but also for others.
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