Saying Goodbye

Said goodbye to one of the finest men I have had the pleasure of knowing yesterday. Randy Smith was a fraternity brother at Clemson. He was also a star football player who turned down a pro contract to go to medical school. He became an outstanding, world-reknowned plastic surgeon who made 40 mission trips throughout the world performing surgery on indigenous children scarred from burns, birth defects, or whatever. He has received the highest awards from Clemson that an alumnus can receive and has held numerous leadership positions in his profession.

Randy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two years ago. He knew he was dying, but he put up a brilliant fight and outlived the doctors’ most optimistic prognoses. I was one of a large contingent from Clemson who made the 2 1/2 hour trip down to Augusta for his Memorial Service. I drove and had the honor of being accompanied by three Clemson legends: my dear friend, Frank Cox (Mister Clemson himself); the President and CEO of the Clemson Foundation, Hack Trammel; and the Senior Associate Vice President for Development, Jovanna King. Certainly no danger of falling asleep at the wheel with the lively conversation coming from that foursome.

Throughout the service and on the drive back afterwards, my thoughts often strayed to comparisons of Leigh’s life, death, and memorial service with Randy’s. Both Leigh and Randy were people at the top of their professions (teacher and doctor) who made a tremendous impact on a great number of people. Both were tremendous athletes. Both were runners, and both had competed in triathlons. Both had packed venues for their memorial services – a high school gymnasium for Leigh and a large Church sanctuary for Randy. Both services were beautiful and reflected the persona of the person being remembered. Actually, as was related by one of the ministers performing the service, Randy “had his thumb print all over his service” as he planned it in detail.

That, to me, was the stark difference between Randy’s situation and Leigh’s. Randy knew he was dying. He had time to say his goodbyes to his family and his closest friends. He had time to seriously consider his passing and how he wanted to be remembered. And he was able to have maximum input into his memorial service to say goodbye to the world. On the other hand, Leigh never knew she was dying. I’m certain that even on that Saturday evening when she was taken to the emergency room, and in those last seconds before she was put on a ventilator and induced into the coma from which she never woke up, she was thinking she would be back up and running in a couple of days. She never said goodbye. Whereas Randy was able to say goodbye on his terms through his memorial service, it was through Leigh’s memorial service that we said goodbye to her.

I’m certainly not saying that one way to die is better than another. There’s no good way to die. Personally, I don’t know how Leigh and I could ever have said goodbye to each other. I think the pain of saying goodbye to a child over a period of time and having that anticipation of death over a period of time would have been unbearable for me. I don’t know how any of us could have managed it. There’s just no good way to die.

Anyway, Randolph Relihan Smith, if you’re looking for a good running partner up there, look up Leigh Cooper Wallace. She’ll bust your butt.