He was my friend. I would open the front door and sit right beside him nearly everyday. I could always count on him to smile bright enough to bring light to the gloomiest of days. He always smiled. He was important to me especially because this was one of those years everyday seemed gloomy. He wad my friend. He would look over grin, and say there’s my girl. I knew I would see you sometime today.

He was he the sweetest friend, personable, charming, handsome and wise. I had finally met someone who could out talk me and I never enjoyed listening more. I learned about the wife he adored, his military service in Germany, where I was born, the son he lost, and the daughters and grandchildren that made him proud. I learned that he loved the water, he loved his dogs, and that he had working hands. I would laugh as he told me stories about his job laying carpet. Once there was even a flood, too funny. We always talkedHe would always ask about my beat up, 94 BMW Beulah, especially since he knew it liked to act up. He always dropped me off at the yield sign on Sullivan.

My stop was special because, if it were not for our friendship, it would not exist. I noticed that everyone loved him. No one got on the shuttle without acknowledging him. We treasured him. When we got the new shuttle, I always made an effort to look out for him and keep him company

He was faithful and he was always there to pick me up, rain or shine. More than pick me up. He lifted my spirits and reminded me that I was too young to do any more than live life to the fullest. I took him for granted.

The week he passed, I decided I was gaining some weight and getting lazy so I decided to walk. I never got the chance to share this theory or logic with Mr. Ray. I knew that when I returned to being lazy and fat, he would be there to pick me up. On Monday, I began to walk and I felt pretty good about the ground I was covering. After a long walk from work to class, then home, I walked into my apartment and heard the words “The man who drives the shuttle died.: What A Pain! Agonizing pain and horror overtook me as I stood in the door sobbing. Even before I was sure, I knew in my heart it was him. ” that was my friend,” I told her.

I refused to get on another shuttle. That Friday, as I was driving, I caught a glimpse of his shuttle. I sped up and caught up so I could confirm the truth. Finally I was beside it, looked up and found a young uniformed man at the wheel. My heart broke. In two days that I walked I lost him.

The funeral was hard for me. Before the service, I made what seemed like the longest walk ever to his coffin. I touched his hand and said goodbye. I have suffered very few losses, they were all family and friends, but for some reason, none of them have hit me as close to home as him.

Even today I am plagued by memories and the fact that no matter how alive and jovial, the saying holds true, “here today, gone tomorrow”.

I miss him terribly and still struggle in disbelief that I will never se him again. I never knew how much my friend meant to me until, suddenly, unexpectedly, prematurely, he was gone.

Rest in Peace Mr. Rayfield Smith.

• Aries Brinson