We're gonna miss you, Goldie; R.I.P. Dave Goldberg

You meet a lot of people in this life.

Many are angry, most are anxious, and some are clueless. Few are content, very few care about others more than they care about themselves.

As you get older, your radar gets better and your time becomes precious. You narrow down the number of people in your life to only the good ones, trying as hard as you can to double down on the time you spend with them.

Dave Goldberg was the good guy at our poker game that everyone wanted to spend more time with. He was the guy we all wanted to be a little more like. He was a mensch amongst the good ones. 

He was a better friend, a better husband, a better father, a better leader, and a better person than all of us -- and we knew that.

Goldie set the standard we all tried to reach.

He carried himself with an effortlessness that you can only have when you’ve found peace in your life. An effortlessness, a calm, that reminded you of a Priest or a Jedi Knight, who had seen it all and had figured it out.

He focused on his family, his friends, and his team at work. He had time for you, he listened, he considered things and spoke like an old, wise man. Wasn’t uncommon for him to take a moment or two to think through what he was going to say -- and the impact it would have on the person he was saying it to.

Life can be so unfair, can’t it? The best person you know, the one you respect most, goes first.

Last Wednesday, two days before we lost Goldie, we played cards at our weekly game. As is the rule in our poker game, we “draw cards for seats” so you’re randomly seated with your “opponents.” This is so no one is given an advantage.

I drew seat seven, Goldie drew seat six on Wednesday night. Sitting to his left I watched him play Scrabble on his phone between hands of poker. We laughed and joked late into the night, as has been the tradition for close to a decade in our group.

He considered every bet, fold, and check, trying to figure out how to play each hand a little better.

Just like in his life.

He tried to be a little better in each hand he was dealt in life. A little more considered, a little more wise each time he faced a decision.

Some players at the poker table will never show you what cards they had after they beat you. It makes sense. If you show people what cards you beat them with they can start unwinding your game.

Most hands you lose, you're left wondering, ‘gosh, how did I get beat?’

It can drive you crazy.

Goldie would always flash you his hand, or tell you later over a drink, how he beat you. He cared more about your feeling in defeat than his victory in the next hand.

He was 47 years old when he died, but his wisdom and kindness allowed him to live so many more years than that. The love and support he showed to all of us will last us through this lifetime as well.

Man are we gonna miss you at the table, Goldie. So, so much.

My heart goes out to Sheryl, the kids, his brother Rob, his family and everyone who David meant so much to.