For Bob, Once More

I'm putting money on the table to support military families, and I hope my friends will join me.

A few years ago, the nation lost an outstanding naval officer and emergency physician to a tragic accident. I had huge respect for Commander Bob Goodwin as a professional colleague and friend. His dedication to freedom took him to Afghanistan in support of a dangerous mission in a hostile land. Not very long after his joyful return, when he was about to transfer to the 7th Fleet flagship, he died on one of our own nation's highways. Bob left behind a beautiful wife, two engaging young sons, loving parents and siblings, and an inspiring extended family.

Below is my original post on the day of Bob's funeral, just over two years ago.

On October 28, I will run the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC. To honor Bob's memory, I've established a donations webpage in support of Transition Assistance Program for Survivors (TAPS). This compassionate organization sets the high bar in service to families of deceased military members.

Please consider joining me in making a donation in Bob's memory, whatever you can afford to give.

Whether or not you choose to donate, please take a moment out of your life to reflect upon and honor the memory of all deceased military members, and the faithful families who mourn them.

Click Here to Donate

FOR BOB

Original post July 8, 2010

By now anyone who has ears with which to hear or eyes with which to read knows that Bob Goodwin was a model naval officer, a stellar emergency physician, an enviable family man, and an exceptional human being. His untimely death represents a tragedy of a magnitude that defies mere human ken. Today as he is laid to rest, we all mourn the loss of him in our own way, and for our own reasons.

CDR Bob Goodwin, MC, USN (Deceased)

I had so looked forward to welcoming Bob aboard the 7^th Fleet Flagship. 


I will miss working and collaborating with him as a fellow operational physician supporting our nation's forward deployed mission. Kathy and I both will miss Bob's and Bridget's friendship. We were eager to once again enjoy the Japan experience with their young family. We will miss sharing a part of their lives, and we will surely regret not watching Christopher and Paul grow up.


But Bob's life means so much more than the collegial friendship that this fellow naval officer and his spouse will miss. I cannot begin to fathom what Bob's wife and children are feeling today. Our hearts and prayers reach out to them. No words in any language suffice to express our emotions and thoughts as we vainly try to conjure up some sense in all this grief.


Considering all the lives that Bob touched, his patients, co-workers, students, friends, and family, we should stand in awe of this one man's tremendous impact on humanity. His was an exemplary life of service and love, truly a life to celebrate, even in death. 


The Navy describes itself as "a global force for good." Bob was truly such a force. We are fortunate to have had him with us, however temporarily.


So even as we mourn the loss of that good force that was Bob Goodwin, we also optimistically anticipate his continued impact after death. Perhaps he was taken from fellow mortals early in life so that his soul could be released to an even higher calling. And perhaps we who grieve his loss still have him in our lives, only in a different and more enduring way. Perhaps he has "slipped the surly bonds of earth" to protect his beloved family and honored friends and nation in a fashion that a mere human cannot do. In that we must believe, and for that blessing we must be grateful. Thus we have hope, and in that hope we can truly celebrate his life.


I'm a better man for having known you, Bob. Fair winds and following seas, Shipmate.

For Bob

By now anyone who has ears with which to hear or eyes with which to read knows that Bob Goodwin was a model naval officer, a stellar emergency physician, an enviable family man, and an exceptional human being. His untimely death represents a tragedy of a magnitude that defies mere human ken. Today as he is laid to rest, we all mourn the loss of him in our own way, and for our own reasons.


I had so looked forward to welcoming Bob aboard the 7^th Fleet Flagship. 


I will miss working and collaborating with him as a fellow operational physician supporting our nation's forward deployed mission. Kathy and I both will miss Bob's and Bridget's friendship. We were eager to once again enjoy the Japan experience with their young family. We will miss sharing a part of their lives, and we will surely regret not watching Christopher and Paul grow up.


But Bob's life means so much more than the collegial friendship that this fellow naval officer and spouse will miss. I cannot begin to fathom what Bob's wife and children are feeling today. Our hearts and prayers reach out to them. No words in any language suffice to express our emotions and thoughts as we vainly try to conjure up some sense in all this grief.


Considering all the lives that Bob touched, his patients, co-workers, students, friends, and family, we should stand in awe of this one man's tremendous impact on humanity. His was an exemplary life of service and love, truly a life to celebrate, even in death. 


The Navy describes itself as "a global force for good." Bob was truly such a force. We are fortunate to have had him with us, however temporarily.


So even as we mourn the loss of that good force that was Bob Goodwin, we also optimistically anticipate his continued impact after death. Perhaps he was taken from fellow mortals early in life so that his soul could be released to an even higher calling. And perhaps we who grieve his loss still have him in our lives, only in a different and more enduring way. Perhaps he has "slipped the surly bonds of earth" to protect his beloved family and honored friends and nation in a fashion that a mere human cannot do. In that we must believe, and for that blessing we must be grateful. Thus we have hope, and in that hope we can truly celebrate his life.


I'm a better man for having known you, Bob. Fair winds and following seas, Shipmate.

Can You Hear Me Now?

"CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?"


Four-year old Christopher shouted it into my ear. We played a little after dinner game at our house, enabling his mom and dad to chat freely with my wife. That was in 2007. Bob and Bridget had come to discuss his career options as a Navy emergency physician. He was one of the best physicians, leaders, and naval officers I'd ever met, and he had a great young family too. I was highly motivated to keep him in the Navy, but only if we could meet his professional and family requirements. Kathy's and Bridget's conversation would be pivotal, and would engender an enduring friendship.


Quite some time later, when his mom was carrying his future brother Paul, I happened upon Christopher and his family strolling through our hospital. He remembered our little game.


"CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?"


Today seven-year old Christopher lies alone as a patient in a Seattle hospital. Fortunately, his injuries appear less serious than originally feared. His mom and two-year old brother are patients in yet another hospital near Spokane. We understand that they will recover as well.


His dad...


Well, Bob is no longer with us. He died in the vehicle rollover that seriously injured his wife and two children.


Words utterly fail to express the sadness and anger we feel around here.


They were supposed to come back to Japan. I would have the privilege to work with Bob again. Kathy and Bridget would renew their friendship. Maybe Christopher would remember our little game. Maybe Paul would learn it too. But...


As humans we don't get to decide these things. So says conventional wisdom. Frankly, at this time we wonder why He who does decide would allow such a tragedy to befall good people who so deserve happiness and earthly fulfillment. Today, doubt borne on incredulity sorely tries our faith.


But ultimately we must believe that some redemption will occur, at a time and place and way that we cannot fathom now. Otherwise the senselessness will lead to despair. And Hell that is. So faith must win this battle, no matter how desperately challenged.


Can you hear me now, Bob? We grieve the loss of you. We cherish the memory of you. We honor and pray for your family left behind. You were a great American, an outstanding physician and naval officer, and an exemplary husband, father, and human being. We so must believe that your life will achieve greater fulfillment in those left behind by your death.


Can you hear me now, God? Can you hear my anger? My doubt? You have truly shaken faith by this tragedy. Now You must give strength and succor to those who mourn, to those who continue to believe against reason that You will turn this pain to good, so that we may all cherish the memory of Bob as one of your most outstanding servants.  


Not our will....


CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?