There was a guy I knew in high school, but we never ran in the same circles. He was just another face in the hallways, someone I recognized but didn’t really know. Years later, life had knocked me around—I had a stroke that left me disabled, and birthdays carried a weight they never used to.

Out of the blue, this man reached out. He had become a flyfishing guide, living his passion in the rivers of North Carolina. Coincidently, I had also become a flyfishing enthusiast until my stroke made it difficult to engage in this hobby I loved. For my birthday, Eddie offered me something I never expected: a week at his house, fishing every day. He didn’t just take me out on the water—he waded beside, making sure I could share in the joy of casting a line again.

My wife, Mary, joined in too, thanks to the warm welcome from Eddie and Dottie. The laughter, the river, the easy meals at the end of the day—those moments stitched together a week I’ll never forget. Every day, he led me into the water. Patiently, carefully, he helped me wade against the current, never once treating me as a burden. We caught fish—plenty of them—and Mary shared in the joy thanks to the kindness of Eddie and Dottie, who welcomed her as warmly as they welcomed me. Just like family.

It wasn’t just a fishing trip. It was a week of friendship, laughter, and a reminder of what generosity looks like when lived out loud. Eddie and I became true friends during that time, and he will always stand out in my memory as a man of rare kindness, generous to a fault, and always willing to help others. Life has a way of showing you who people truly are, and he showed me he was the kind of man I would never forget. Eddie, my friend, I love you and hope I remembered to tell you that before you left us.