Memories from Bob Dillon

Dearest Joanie
I cannot begin to tell you how stunned and saddened I am to hear about Shawnie’s passing. The word “shock” doesn’t seem to quite capture it. “Sadness” also seems insubstantial. The most appropriate words escape me, mostly because these feelings are new and unwelcome.
The words may not come easily but the memories sure have. They are popping into my head and are so fresh in my mind that they feel brand new. It’s amazing to think that I’ve known Shawnie for the better part of three decades. On paper, we didn’t have a lot in common. He was an outdoorsy guy and I like my controlled indoor climates. He was a people person and I’m more of an introvert. We traded good natured political barbs from his spot on the right and me, from mine on the left. But somehow we managed to forge a friendship because we just plain old liked each other. He would pontificate about something and I’d roll my eyes; he’d laugh. I’d go off on a tangent, he’d push my buttons and we’d trade barbs. We laughed some more. In fact we laughed a lot. That much we shared. Basically he’s always been a unique character, a good guy and a good friend.
Those three decades of friendship also includes listening to Shawnie’s unique man-giggle. The one that sets his shoulders shuddering and often builds to a full-on belly laugh. I keep thinking about that giggle and how, for me, it defines my memories of Shawnie.
That, and the way he used to give me a big old smack on the lips every time I saw him. At first I thought it was just plain silly but funny. Then when I knew it bugged you I thought “okay, enough.” But Shawnie kept going with it. The consummate button pusher, he met me every time with a big old exaggerated smoocharoo (with sound effects). In an odd way it was our thing.; a running joke that we shared for no particular reason other than it made us both chuckle.
There are so many other memories too: the holiday parties, the baseball box scores, road trips to Bix, the World Series, walking Guinness in Evanston…I could go on for days. But in each one of these precious memories, Shawnie is smiling and laughing…mostly giggling, but always having a good time.
It’s hard to imagine him gone. My head understands it (sort of) but my heart isn’t ready to. I’m not ready to let him go I guess. As far as characters go, he’s one of the more memorable ones in my life and even though a chapter may be ending, the story isn’t over. He’ll be with me forever and that makes me smile…and maybe giggle a little bit for good measure.
Just wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you and the kids and to let you know that if there is anything you need, please let me know.
Love you
Bobby