My Friend Steve Kelso

Dear Steve Kelso,
I am sort of at a loss of words here, but will do the best I can. I think it was 1995, okay, maybe 96 when we met. You were seated at a table for two at this joint in San Miguel de Allende that happened to have satellite TV and the Dallas Cowboys were playing. The place was crowded beyond belief, and recognizing my sense of dismay, you offered me a seat.
We were the best of friends within the time span of 5 minutes while eating chili with cheese and crackers and sipping (or gulping depending on one’s perspective) good, cold beer.
When I read your letter about your sickness, I thought that, hey, if I go first, you can have my liver. Then I thought again and realized an offer like that might send someone into nightmarish cardiac arrest.
If this sounds a bit light, that’s because it is. I seriously doubt that you would want all of us crying and mourning or, Lord forbid, putting on a suit and tie for an occasion celebrating your grand existence.
You gave me advice on the game of playing pool. You accepted my girlfriend who I later married as a friend and without any prejudice whatsoever. You had an influence on someone’s life. I happened to be that fortunate someone. There was a perpetual and genuine smile on your face that I will never forget.
You once called me and asked if you could stay for the night at our place in Fort Worth. Of course we agreed and you still have a place with us always. Now it just happens to be in our hearts.
Sincerely,
David Daniel y Beth Getchell