They all gathered to celebrate his life. About three hundred of them, from all walks of life. They were young and old, from his distant past and from the present, from home and from abroad.

They all came to say their goodbyes.

He was seventy-eight years old when he died, his body ravaged by the cancer which laid him low, even before he knew he had it.

His family and his friends were devastated.

He was loved. The family knew that but it was during the funeral that I came to realize that the life he lived should be envied by anyone who values leaving behind a lasting legacy of good deeds that stretches into infinity.

I’d always known that he had qualities that were admirable. Over the years I’d witnessed instances when he went over and beyond to help others, when he treated those who other people considered invisible and unimportant, with the utmost respect.

But during those years, I never thought much of it.

At all.

We had always argued about world affairs and of course we did not always agree.

He was more of a purist in his thinking, about how the world should be. I, on the other hand, am guided by my belief in realpolitik. I have developed the view that because the world can be cruelly disappointing, allegiances often shift and countries often only align with others, based on their immediate needs.

These types of conversations usually ended with a short and quick “goodbye”. We are usually pissed with each other, but we would talk again.

I just took it for granted that we would have the next conversation within a few days, or at most a week.

It was a two-week spell, this time.

“Haven’t been feeling well for a while”, he had said. He told me and my sister that he was often out of breath and didn’t want to eat.

The doctors confirmed his fears that morning. It was cancer.

It didn’t take long for him to come to terms with his own mortality and that conversation was painful for both of us. It was gentle but definite.

“I think I am going to need hospice care’, he said matter-of-factly.

It was then I knew that he was going.

His rock, his supportive, beautiful wife was there to help him through this sadness, even as she mourned her own upcoming loss.

The news was telephoned and texted and whispered. And it was then that the social media posts started.

People from all walks of life, the young and the old, people of privilege and without, all testified of this man who brought focus and purpose to their lives.

His interests were many: politics, business, economics, technology, psychology and other sundry subjects. And he used it all to help others.

The testimonies were as eclectic as they were poignant. There were young professionals whom he helped chart successful career paths, two young fathers whom he coached about being good providers while being effective presence in their family’s lives. There were stories of him being a pioneer in the early years of retail technological advances and how he unselfishly encouraged others to join. And of course, his beautiful, ambitious, accomplished daughters and granddaughters, young women who are the living examples of his values, displayed a life well lived.

It was a wonderful goodbye, one that touched many. We should all hope that at the end our lives will reflect such an exemplary stay here on earth.

Rest in peace, dear Freddie, rest in peace.

Thanks for reading.

It’s quite hard to just take that step, the one that changes everything, the one that takes you on a path that is so unfamiliar, you can feel the knot as fear rises in your throat.

There is so much uncertainty. There is no sure outcome, you have no experience that can guide you down that treacherous path. You overthink everything and this stops you in your tracks.

But if you want change, you have to find the courage to make the difficult decision.

You just have to.

I am facing such a situation right this minute. I have been mulling over a problem for quite a few months and sometimes the fear of a possible negative outcome cripples me.

Should I do this? There will be unhappy people. What if I fail to achieve my goal?

This cannot wait anymore so this morning, I will take a deep breath, inhale the courage and I will jump in.

I have to.

Thank you for reading 💕

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This article was published on March 4th, 2025 in Short. Sweet. Valuable. publication.

“The Universe Rewards the Brave.” was originally published in Short. Sweet. Valuable. on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.