Sean had many natural gifts that most would wish they had themselves. He was extremely intelligent, talented, and had a magnetic personality. He also had many qualities that most people would want their own child to have: He contributed to the greater good of society. He was loyal and devoted to the people he loved. He lent his hand when help was needed. He lived an honest life.
One of the qualities that I admired about Sean was his humility. He knew that he was talented, intelligent, accomplished, and charming, but he never boasted. He acted like his accomplishments were no big deal. He led on that his skills were normal, but they weren’t.
One of the memories that that will always vividly replay in my mind (that I can’t possibly sufficiently describe how amazing it was, but will try anyways) is one morning when we were at the beach on a big day of surf. It was one of those days that you could spend an hour trying to get out past the whitewater into the lineup, and never make it out. One of those days where, despite how big and perfect the waves were, only a few guys could actually catch one. One of those days that you had to wait for a set to end, then paddle out and hope that you can make it out before the next set comes. While I lagged getting my suit on and gear together, Sean just jumped on his board and started paddling. I sat there with another of our buddies and just watched as he somehow managed to make it out to the peak hardly getting his hair wet. As soon as he made it out, a set came, and Sean was in the perfect spot. He took off backside, and our other buddy and I just started cheering him on. It was an amazing wave. It was so big, I don’t think he ever made it to the bottom. It just kept peeling off and he rode it like the mellow soul he was. When I finally made it out to the lineup and joined him, I tried to tell him how incredible that wave was. To him, it was “no big deal,” just another wave. Maybe he didn’t know how amazing it looked from the beach, maybe he didn’t realize how big and perfect it actually was. Nonetheless, I know that if someone told me how great a wave was that I caught, I would have loved hearing all about it. Sean on the other hand, didn’t care to hear about it. He was a humble dude despite his gifts.
To me, this story exemplifies Sean. It was the most graceful thing I ever saw him do. I never got to see him use the jaws of life to tear apart a car and get somebody out. I never saw him climb through a window of a burning building and pull a little old lady out safely. I never saw him administer CPR. But I did witness several "Sean moments" where he would snap into his intense mood when it was time to get something done. Moments when us normal people would just say, wow, that was amazing how he did that. He was a gifted person. I had a ton of respect for him. It's a shame that he departed this world too soon.
Losing a friend is hard. Losing a family member in the youth of his life must be harder. Over the past several weeks, I’ve been reminded by people close to me to look at the bright side, to take something positive out of this. As hard as that is, I can honestly say that even in his death, Sean has brought people together. He was a centerpiece node in our network of friends. Because of this unfortunate situation, friends have reconnected with one another. People that haven’t talked in years are talking, telling each other stories, re-living the good times, laughing, crying, laughing some more. One thing that I know for sure is that Sean would have wanted us to all have a laugh together. That's what he was all about.
Rob Donahue
