Our friend Steve Cavanaugh died yesterday after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a couple of months ago.
We're going to miss him dearly. His family and my family have been good friends for over 20 years. We first met them when they started coming to our church in the early 80s. Steve was a talented musician and singer and would bring his guitar with him whenever he, Becky, Lauren, and Chris would come to the house to visit, which was often back in the 80s and 90s. He would play guitar and sing for us and with us. I would play some piano. We would all tell stories and laugh. I loved those evenings.
The Cavanaughs were like an extension of our family. My family, wonderful as they are, are not musicians. They love music, but not from the inside--not the way a musician can. Steve understood my musician's love for music, and I understood his. It was good to have someone in the family, albeit an extended one, who shared a passion for something that meant so much to me.
My brother called this morning, and he, my sister, and I are talking about making a there-and-back road trip to Louisiana for the funeral. I have some Sunday obligations, but I may make the road trip anyway. My mom said it might be better for us to wait until we visit at Christmas, when we can spend more time with Becky and the family. She's right, of course, but part of me feels a deep need to go to this funeral.
Those of you who pray, please keep Steve's wife Becky, his daughter Lauren, his son Chris, and his daughter-in-law Annie in your prayers. I can't imagine the pain and shock that they are going through.