Opinion

Op-Ed: With death of a friend, a lesson in mortality learned

By Brett Sowerby

Posted on April 16, 2009, at 12:00 a.m.

Mortality. There is something about the topic that makes nearly everyone a bit squeamish.

This Tuesday, The University of Maine lost a good friend and a phenomenal personality to a terrible accident. Andrew Gerke will be missed.

It might seem selfish, but I can only comment on Andrew’s life and death in respect to how it has affected me. Realistically, it’s all any of us can do right now. Some may say Andrew’s death was a tragedy because he was young or because he had potential. I say it’s a tragedy because Andrew was my friend and a damn good one to have around. He knew how to endure adversity and was an asset to have in your corner. I think if he could, he would console those who are grieving now. That ass, always trying to be a better man than I can be. But that’s the thing about Andrew – he inspired me to be a better person.

A quick glance at Facebook reveals Andrew had more than 900 friends, of which I am one. Was he a “friend collector”? Hardly. Andrew knew these people – I’m not even sure I can say that for the people in my friend list. I bet most of them would even call Andrew their friend, not just a mere acquaintance.

I can’t pretend I was Andrew’s best friend; I simply wasn’t. I think the closest approximation of our relationship would be “business associates,” but I would nonetheless call him a friend. I, like many others at UMaine, just knew him. I looked forward to my encounters with Andrew, whether it was seeing him shirtless, running around the Alfond Arena, or just enjoying a cup of coffee across from that huge grin he showed off most of the day – generally, shirt on.

It was almost impossible to have avoided Andrew’s presence, what with his gregarious personality and involvement in so many facets of the university community. He was able to do the amazing juggling act: simultaneously donning the hat of the constant entertainer, wearing the suit of a businessman, carrying the letters of Greek life, fulfilling the rigors of engineering, all while being that guy everyone wants to hang out with.

This was one thing about Andrew I found especially amazing: He was a man wearing many hats, but was able to transcend all of these roles. He refused to be two-dimensional and made real connections with so many people because of it. He was at once the guy in the pep band, the guy playing music outside his dorm room, the guy in Greek life, the booking agent down in Augusta, and yet was never boxed in by any of the stereotypes those roles may have.

If you had asked me three days ago, I would have had no doubt that Andrew Gerke was destined for great things. No, scratch destined. I thought he would chisel great things out of life’s opportunities. Andrew reminds us how much responsibility we can take on our shoulders and still be decent, giving individuals. He has reminded me to keep in mind our short time on earth.

Given the recent deaths that have affected many students, I sincerely hope the UMaine community uses this opportunity to address mortality, regardless of the feelings of squeamishness it may cause.

Appreciate the people you know. Be a hugger. Love your friends. Let petty differences go. Call your family more often. Above all else, hope.

Brett Sowerby wishes life’s lessons didn’t have to be so painful.