The death of Brent Malone this week not only shocked me, but shook me. He was too young, for one thing. And for another, he was too special.
Those feelings are absurd, of course, and extremely personal. Death is the one thing that does not discriminate. No one is too young, too special, too bad, too good, too black, too white, or too holy to die. The delusions of some North Americans aside, it is the one sure thing.
But this isn’t going to be about death, per se, but about the goodness of men who do what they were born to do, who recognize the gifts bestowed upon them by the Creator and who respect themselves and those gifts and their Creator enough to sacrifice money, social standing, parental approval, religious recognition, and material security for the exercise of those gifts.
Brent Malone was one of them.
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{ 1 comment }
I have just read your piece about my dear friend Brent, who was a family friend. I live in London but as my Aunt was the co-owner of Marlborough Antiques, I knew Brent very well and he was the kindest most generous man I have ever met. It has been a few years now since his death but I still shed tears for my dear friend. I have his work all over my apartment and it is a constant reminder to me of this wonderful man.
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