Liability?

Did I mention that Terry was always out there doing things when he was younger?

You know that saying about how only firefighters run toward a fire while everyone else runs the other way? Terry was not a firefighter, but he clearly missed that memo. Living in California meant earthquakes, floods, fires, and the occasional reminder that the ground beneath your feet is only pretending to be stable. Whenever something shook, cracked, or collapsed, Terry was already reaching for his shoes.

Before MS pinned him down, he would head into the streets after earthquakes, sometimes alone, sometimes with a friend. Aftershocks were expected. Caution was advised. He went anyway. He drove slowly through damaged neighborhoods, scanning sidewalks and alleyways, looking for anyone who needed help. People. Animals. The overlooked corners where trouble tends to hide. He found more than a few. He helped more than a few.

He always came home a little dusty, a little tired, and glowing in that quiet way people glow when they have been useful. That mattered to him. Being useful.

Later, when MS took his mobility, disasters did not stop happening. They never do. But Terry’s role in them changed. I could see it in his face whenever the news showed flooding or fires or buildings bent at the wrong angles. He was not sad exactly. Frustrated is the better word.

“I used to be the one out there,” he said once. “Now I’m just stuck here being a liability.”

That word sat heavily in the room, like a chair no one wanted to claim.

It saddened me to watch him wrestle with that thought, circling it like a puzzle with no clean solution. But Terry was Terry. If his body could not move toward trouble anymore, his generosity still could. He gave what he had without hesitation. Time. Money. Attention. Care. Help wears many outfits, after all.

He was never actually in the way. He was never useless. He simply had to help differently.

These days, when storms and floods hit the West Coast, I think of him. I imagine him watching the weather maps, concerned, alert, ready in every way he still could be.

I miss my best friend very much.
And I smile as his picture becomes vivid in my thoughts.

Because some people are built to run toward the fire, even when they can no longer walk.