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The Passing of a Great Soul
By Patti Pfeiffer
It was one of those days, weeks and one of those real estate transactions. Anything and everything that could go wrong, of course, had gone wrong: Potholes, obstacles, hurdles surfaced along the rugged route to the closing table.
I was past worn-out.
In the midst of the mayhem, hubby called inquiring about my day. Like a machine gun, my spewing, venting, non-stop verbal vomiting provided response.
Without delay two words came. "Dustin died."
My heart sank.
It wasn't his tone of voice. Certainly not his words. Sharing such news, especially over the phone, revealed plenty. Dustin Malcom must have been a special person.
If a man's specialness and "impactability" are measured by the number attending his memorial, then Dustin was indeed unique. It was not a standing-room-only crowd, but one overflowing into the hall.
The chapel was filled wall-to-wall with family, co-workers, former and current elected-officials as well as recent and long-ago friends. He'd impacted them all. In such a short span, he had touched so many.
Tears flowed. Sniffles sounded. Stories shared.
Dustin passed away June 14 at the age of 36 from post-surgery complications. His was a life cut short, yet a life fully lived. In 1999 he went to work as a computer tech with the Town of Flower Mound and excelled. A mere year later he was named the Town's IT director holding the position until his passing. During his reign -- and because of his talents -- the Town won numerous awards and received various recognitions.
As a friend and co-worker Linda Bolitho, Flower Mound Human Resource Director, worked closely and shared a lot with Dustin throughout the past 13 years. Her admiration for and sadness over his death are apparent.
"He was one of those people who brought light and happiness into your life," she said. "He was smart, super intelligent, very ethical and so funny. And he absolutely adored his daughter."
Yes, Dustin leaves behind the love of his life, 6-year-old Ellie.
During the service, guest after guest shared about his passion for life, his heart for Ellie. There were accolades of his accomplishments with the Town. There was the story surrounding previous employment -- an infamous legend, unfortunately true, plucked from his stint as entertainment director of a Lubbock bar.
"He turned down a group called the Dixie Chicks because he said they didn't have any talent, thus paving his way into the IT field," his brother Bill bull horned during the memorial.
The head of a Denton County non-profit explained that the child advocacy agency has computers to this day because of Dustin's efforts, his care and concern.
The young man's life was best summed up by a piece titled The Heaviest Doo by Maya Angelour, selected by family and read during the gathering.
"And then the heaviest door in the universe slammed shut.
The season of grief fell around us like the leaves of autumn.
When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder.
Lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants seek safety.
When great trees fall in forests small things recoil into silence, their senses eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die, the air around us becomes sterile, light rare.
We breathe briefly.
Our eyes briefly see with a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened, examines, gnaws on kind words unsaid, on promised walks not taken.
Great souls die, and our reality bound to them takes leave of us.
Our souls, dependent upon them, upon their nature, upon their nurture, now shrink wizened.
Our minds formed and informed by their radiance, seem to fall away.
We are not so much maddened, as reduced to the unutterable silence of the dark, cold caves.
And when great souls die, after a period, peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly.
Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
They exist in us.
We can be. Be and be better.
Larger, kinder, truer.
For they existed."
No doubt Dustin was a great soul. Though short in duration, the impact of his existence measures wide and deep -- and will forever remain.
Patti Pfeiffer is a columnist for Star Local News, freelance writer and author. She can be reached at pattip913@msn.com
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