Danny Cepero.
I've known him almost as long as I've known anyone. A tall guy, on the heavy side, with a firm handshake, and a round face and a smile that screams "gentle, friendly guy inside".
Faithful and loving. Gentle and caring. Devoted. As a pediatrician, he quietly reassured nervous and upset parents. And they knew, on some level within themselves, that he cared as deeply for their children as he did his own.
When he wasn't at work, he was with his family -- although he could occasionally be tempted to go see a movie with a friend. His family rested comfortably in the knowledge of his dedication and commitment to them.
One wife. Two young children.
His friends knew they could count on him. His word was his bond. Dependable. Reliable. He was always there, through thick and thin, ready to listen and forever refusing to judge harshly.
Quick to laugh. Slow to anger. He was one of the good guys.
43 years old.
Last night, November 25, 2003, at approximately 11:00PM CST, Danny died.
No one had a clue. No one saw it coming. No one ... knew. He was supposed to be well. The doctors said he would be okay ... And just like that - blink - he was gone.
So long, Danny. Old friend ... I'll miss you forever.
Posted from exitwound.org, comment here.
