The Tomorrow Without Bob…… Was Today

The Tomorrow Without Bob… Was Today

What do you say when a giant dies? For someone who’s always had a way with words—me—today, the first today without the giant that was Bob, I find myself grasping for words that slip through my fingers.

Maybe it’s because today isn’t just the first day without a giant of EMS. It’s the first today without my friend. The words blur, lost in the ache and the hole left behind. Like a tornado, an inverted vacuum, the Lord called my friend home—and as He called him up, the connections Bob made with the world, with all of us, those invisible strings of love and support, were pulled up too. In their wake, I’m left breathless, as if the very air was sucked from my lungs along with him.

I’ve never known a day of leadership without him. I met Bob just days—maybe even the very first day—into my first chance to lead. That was the first day of a friendship, the first day of a long and stubbornly passionate partnership. Two ethically driven souls, working for the love of serving others, emboldened by each other to not care who we pissed off while doing it.

I know I’ll find more words—words I hope will heal, words I hope will inspire, words that might come close to honoring a man with so much worth recognizing.

I’m grateful that our last conversation was one where I told him how proud I was of him. How honored I was to work beside him. How blessed I felt to call him my friend. I am brought peace in an empty day by the thought that others, not just through his life and career but very recently can say the same thing.

I’ll miss being able to message him when I need someone. I’ll miss him reaching out when he knew I needed someone, even when I wouldn’t dare ask. That’s who he was.

But the words I have found, for this first today without Bob, are ones I know he’d approve of.

Bob, I’ll have more words for you later.

…but for now.

To my team—Bob’s team—I’m so proud of you. You came off a hard week’s work (led by Bob), a week that was incredibly successful, and before we could even savor the “feel goods” of a job well done, we ran headlong into another wall of adversity. To the world and our community: this team, when they heard the news, though heartbroken, held fast to the Mission. First, making sure Bob’s family (Phoenix’s family, in our eyes) knew we were here for them. And then, with tears in our eyes, we breathed through the hurt and started triaging our operations, checking in on each other, anticipating how people would be feeling, and making sure we honored our obligations to our communities and our mission—while looking out for one another and putting in what we could and communicating what we can’t, with no judgment but caring. We tuned in to our needs, didn’t ignore the hurt, let it surface, and still did what we knew our mission called us to do. Bob would have done no different. In fact, we know this because we’ve seen it, lived it, fought adversity with him at our side. It’s what we do as first responders, peers, crisis specialists, nurses, loved ones and the loved. Most certainly what we do as Phoenixes. We lean into adversity.

In the wake of this adversity, without Bob, our team was embraced by amazing community partners who immediately rose to the occasion. While the list of partners grows by the hour – we promise we see you, appreciate you and are even as early as this morning planning to be intentional about thanking every one of you -- a few were present from the start. Aside from the crew who responded to Bob, the list and span of individual providers that reached out, not just from this state, but across the nation that weren’t just offering condolences, but were sharing their broken hearts would amaze you. Our partners at Valley Oaks were housing us when our team shed our first tears. They sat in the fire with us, never hesitating to see Bob, a Phoenix, as one of their own. To the entire Valley team—Mick, Dan, Morgan, and so many more—thank you. Our team doesn’t forget those who sit in the trenches with us when adversity presses on our breaking points. The State EMS Association (IEMSA) goes without saying, you like many others are still very much sitting in this.

To the endless calls I’ve received since the news spread—each call, each kind word, each shared story and condolence, every offer of support—you are pouring buckets of love into the void left inside our team. We are grateful.

Lori, Taylor, Jensen—we can’t wait to hug you. We love you, and we loved your dad and husband so much. We watched you grow up, lucky enough not just to be sideline spectators, but sometimes intricate parts of your lives. That’s one of the great gifts Bob gave us—certainly, he gave it to me. I still talk about building derby cars with you, Jensen. And Taylor, I remember your dad’s pride when he spoke of you and your adventures (Life is an adventure), whether around the kitchen table or in the front of the ambulance. Lori, we talked about you too—all good things, I promise. LOL. For those who don’t know, Lori is a Phoenix too—a regular at our events and motocross coverage, always willing to help me frustrate Bob with new, time-consuming ideas for IEMSA events and always loved a good Bob joke.

To the entire community who felt the love of Bob and his family, we hurt with you. It’s okay to hurt. The best way to wash away the hurt is with tears—so let them flow. I’ve found that after my eyes swell from crying, a laugh soon follows as a blessed memory flashes by. We encourage you to share your stories and memories.

Keep an eye out and help us communicate. I made a promise to this man, and many others feel the conviction to give Bob the send-off he deserves—and we (Lori and family too) want all of you to be a part of it. As plans come into focus, we’ll keep you

informed. We have a team working on it, and like Bob always did with his time, we want to share this commemoration with all of you.

We have a saying in our parts—brought to light by a Phoenix who left the Odyssey a few years ago: When a Phoenix leaves, they take their feathers with them. Bob was a servant—a servant’s heart to the end. No doubt he was called home, and no doubt he took some feathers with him. The way I see it, he’s got a head start on those wings he’s going to start bothering the Lord for, any time now.

Humbly,

Nathaniel and Team.