We buried our friend Jack Cutrer today, out of our little country church. It doesn’t seem quite real. He was only 41. His mother found him dead on his couch last Friday morning, hours after he had returned from a hospital visit. He had been suffering from terrible kidney problems. None of us, least of all Jack, thought he was in imminent danger of death. You never know.
Jack was so gentle and kind, and faithful. He had to bear a lot of pain in this past year, both emotional and physical. But he was a pillar of the church. In his eulogy today, Father Matthew said that seeing how enthusiastic Jack was for the prospect of a new Orthodox mission here was one of the things that convinced him and his wife to take a chance on moving South. I can see why. Jack was one of those quiet, solid men who talk low, and who say the most profound things and the goofiest things in the same tone of voice. The difference with Jack is that when he would say something silly, he would always give you the sweetest grin.
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