24/06/2024
I write a weekly blog for my therapy clients and last week’s was about the passing of our long-time family friend and mentor Mr. Denny Wedge:
“He’s good people”
This week, my family back home in KY lost a close and long-time friend. Denny Wedge was an icon in our community, at least in my mind. He and my step-dad were in a group that met at Teresa’s Restaurant (think small town, southern cookin’) every week for breakfast, literally for as far back in my memory as I can remember. “The Breakfast Bunch,” as my mom calls them, were the epitome of what life-long friendship should be: all in their 70s and 80s, some of them have been friends since college.
But I knew Mr. Wedge in a different role. He was my very first basketball coach, back in elementary school. And his younger son, David, was a classmate of mine. David and I weren’t best buds, but we got along well. As far as I can remember, everyone got along well with David. We played basketball together as freshmen, and we started on the JV team together as sophomores. Although, to be honest, the only reason I started was because Jody, Cannon and Benji got bumped up to start on the varsity team that year. And then we lost David. All of a sudden, we, BGHS Class of 1991, who had just prior been young, innocent kids, were forced to confront the hardest of all of life’s realities. People die, sometimes before they should, and life has plenty of pain in the midst of all the joy and love.
Now, having young adult children of my own, I know that losing a child has to be the single most devastating experience a parent could ever face. Although I think it might be fair to say that the pain of that loss would be forever etched in the lines on his face, in all of my memories Mr. Wedge never exhibited anything less than quiet strength and grace. He was a model of how to be a man, a husband, and a father.
As I came into my own adulthood, I moved back to Bowling Green with two young children of my own. Mr. and Mrs. (Carol) Wedge attended The Presbyterian Church, where my mom and Mike also attended. I liked the idea of being in church with family, so my kids and I attended also, though most of their childhoods. Mr. and Mrs. Wedge always seemed to take a special interest in me, and in my kids. It was more than just a casual greeting for another congregant at church. They were always genuinely curious, interested and supportive.
Although often in adulthood, our relationships with childhood mentors shift and become more informal, and although I am confident that no offense would ever have been taken, I never thought of or referred to Denny and Carol as anything less than Mr. and Mrs. Wedge. It wasn’t out of fear or formality. It was out of respect. To me, Mr. and Mrs. Wedge represented everything that a marriage should be. My mom and Mike did that too, and my dad and step-mom. But, for whatever reason, Mr. and Mrs. Wedge always held a special place for me. Mrs. Wedge seemed to be the classiest lady I knew, after my own mom of course. And Mr. Wedge’s love for and devotion to his wife was so obvious. All the time. I’m sure they had their faults. They were human. We all are. But to me, they were the example to strive for. Sometimes a couple is so close and so loving that you have to wonder when the first passes away, how will the other survive? And that was 100% my thought when Mrs. Wedge passed away. But, like he had so many years before, Mr. Wedge again handled the loss with obvious pain, but also with quiet strength and grace.
Eventually I left The Presbyterian Church, and then sometime later I also left Bowling Green. But still, every time I saw Mr. Wedge, he made a point to express that same special interest in me that he had always shown. I hadn’t seen him for a while, then this past April I was home for a weekend. Courtney and I went to church with my mom and Mike, and Mr. Wedge was there, as always. He had aged noticeably since I had last seen him, and I felt some sadness at the inevitability of that for him, and for all of us. But he was still happy to see me, and he seemed genuinely thrilled to meet Courtney.
My mom texted me last Sunday morning (6/16) that she and Mike were at Mr. Wedge’s, helping Julie navigate her dad’s hospice journey. She said that I could call if I wanted, that Julie would hold the phone to Mr. Wedge’s ear, if I wanted to say something. I wish I could say that I instantly agreed, but I didn’t. The emotion in that small gesture scared me, if I’m being honest. But thankfully, in this as in all things, Courtney helps me to be the best version of myself, and she gently nudged me to do the right thing. I didn’t have any words prepared, and I didn’t feel at all composed. But I called him and told him as best I could what he meant to me, and I thanked him. My mom said that he opened his eyes when he heard me. And how that was the first time he’d opened his eyes all day. One more time, he wanted me to know that I was important.
We all have people besides our parents who play important roles in our lives. For me, it’s my granddaddy, Mr. Wedge, Coach Simpson, Leigh Harris, and a few others of somewhat lesser but still significant influence. If you don’t know who yours are, take some time and give it some thought. And if you still have the fortune to give them a call, let them know how much you appreciate that they cared.
Julie Ann Wedge, Jody Evans, Cannon Simpson, Hattie Page, John Leachman, David C. Garvin, Brandon Gabbard, Kerry Webb, Ted Strode, Larry Dotson, Felton Adams
