The Nelson effect

The Nelson effect.

Everyone who met Blair knows what I’m talking about.

Blair could connect with anyone. I knew it from the first time he walked into my office “because he saw the light on.”

“Is Jimmy around?”

Blair said in his high-pitched voice.

“Where’s Jimmy?”

Or, when my dad started writing for the Pioneer, “Jimmy’s back!”

I haven’t known Blair as long as others. Based on the connection we made over the past two years, I can’t imagine how much of a wreck I would be today if I had known him longer. It’s difficult to transcribe pain, tears, and loss.

When I came into the office on Monday it was an automatic instinct to go talk to Blair, just as it had come to be every day. When he wasn’t there, I had to recognize that it was a holiday, and I pictured him out enjoying the beautiful day and the ideal weather. 

Sitting in my bed this morning reading the news of his passing I was in disbelief. I read the Facebook post a dozen times and it still didn’t sink in. 

Blair treated me like one of his own.

With a laugh and a smile I lost count how many times in the last month he talked about our game of catch in the office. 

Blair gave me the nudge I needed to sign up for the Braves baseball team this season and encouraged me to bring two gloves in for us. The look on his face that afternoon when he came in was priceless. I don’t know what he came into the office for that afternoon, but we spent the next 45 minutes playing catch. 

His wife Deanne gave him a hard time about it when she found out. 

“45 minutes!” Blair told me in his sarcastic high-pitched voice as he imitated her chastisement. Then he admitted with a smile that the game would have lasted even longer if I had not had to leave for a newspaper assignment. 

Blair and Dee had a special relationship which he talked about a lot. And not only in the context of me getting him in trouble talking about our office shenanigans. 

Blair was someone I could talk to for hours, and often did, about anything and everything in between. That kind of relationship is special. Blair connected with many people. 

I call it the Nelson effect. 

Sudden loss is called “sudden” for a reason. It hurts. It’s unexpected. 

Today was unexpected. I was told today that when you picture someone walking through the tunnel to the other side toward the bright white light, that it’s good emotions for the person passing through. For us, on this side, it hurts.

Don’t ask someone who's hurting, “How are you doing?” You already know. Instead, ask or tell, what can I do for you. You can talk to me or not, whatever you need. Be there for the Nelsons, their family, now, in the coming months, and the future.

Many benefited from the Nelson effect. My hope is this will continue. 

"When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure." 

Author unknown

"If tears could build a stairway,and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to Heaven and bring you home again."

Author unknown

"Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, may looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow."

Author unknown