We live most of our lives at a steady pace. Do this, do the next thing, rest, do another thing. Then along comes an emotion.

Emotions fill us at heightened moments. Emotions range from abject despair to soaring joy. I don’t know why, but as I get older, I enjoy emotions more, even flecks of sadness. There’s a way emotions make us feel extra alive, an intensity that ramps up.

I cry easier now. Other old guys have told me that’s true for them. I even choke up at happy things, which seems crazy. Maybe it’s the realization how short and precious these moments are. I don’t take this for granted now that I’ve got about seven decades notched. Losing friends accentuates that.

I was thinking about emotions when a family I know went through many in a short time. Funerals and weddings are emotional affairs. They aren’t supposed to happen four days apart.

In the evening, I make notes of things to do the next day. On a recent Wednesday night, “call Craig” was on my list. I never got that chance.

Craig Hansen hosted the Community Accent Show on SAM 107.3. It’s a half hour of Sleepy Eye news, notes, and fun. I was going to call Craig to see about getting on the air to talk up the St. Mary’s Sausage Dinner.

Thursday early, I got a text from a friend saying something bad had happened to Craig. Then another that said he had passed away in the early morning. News like that is a gut punch. You don’t want it to be true, and maybe it’s a mistake. But soon a bunch of us were calling around. I broke the news to a couple of Craig’s friends, which is an unpleasant task.

Craig was a classmate. We both ended up back here where we grew up, working in our father’s business. We ran into each other often. Like friends you’ve known forever, the conversation wherever we were just picked up wherever we left it off last time.

Craig had a large personality. He was outgoing and friendly and vivacious in spades. He loved to talk, but was a good listener, too. His obituary had this: “A man of many, many words, the world will be much quieter without Craig in it.” Everybody who knew Craig smiled at that.

The night of his passing, I got together with two other classmates. Craig’s cousin Steve and fellow town-kid Mark told stories about growing up on the north side of town in the Sixties. Then, kids roamed in packs on their bikes. Everybody’s mom was watching everybody’s kid. I enjoyed their memories. It’s good to be with people when you’re sad.

Craig grew up with Hansen Distributing, the third generation. His people skills were a benefit there. But when he made a change to radio 15 years ago, it was such a good fit. He could talk and celebrate our town and promote Sleepy Eye and have great fun, all at once.

I was on the air with him several times pitching various events. The interview could turn into rollicking storytelling and laughter spontaneously. The Sleepy Eye Herald Dispatch headline last week, “Voice of Sleepy Eye will be missed.” Yes, to that. And a friend.

Craig’s death was certainly a lot for his wife Linda and their children Brady and Jody. Now add planning a funeral to ongoing planning for Jody’s wedding. Just thinking about the emotions crashing into each other is overwhelming. There would be a funeral on Tuesday and a wedding on Saturday.

When I went to the wake, I thought about what to say to Linda. I always make a plan like that, so I don’t sound too stupid. When I got to Linda, all I could do was hug her and unsuccessfully fight back tears. It was probably the thousandth tear-filled hug Linda had gotten. But it was all I could do.

I sat with classmates at the funeral. Then it was out to the cemetery for the burial, listening to Fr. Timmerman offer final prayers with a cool wind blowing. Finally, warming up back in the church basement for lunch. It’s a routine I know well.

I hadn’t gotten to talk with Linda much and hoped a chance would come to share more. That came soon. A bunch of people went up to the Dawg Haus for a type of Irish wake that afternoon. There were classmates, a group of radio people from KNUJ, then Linda, Jody, Brady, and a group of their friends.

Outside, light rain was turning to snow. Gradually people drifted away, some having to drive a ways. In a bit of serendipity, it came to Linda and I being left.

I felt blessed to be in that space. For Linda, this was a slow moment following a crush of activity. Our conversation seemed to allow for decompressing. For a while, we could do what friends do and just be together.

Four days later, I was in St. Mary’s Church again. I’ve been to many funerals and weddings there. But never two paired like this.

As Trumpet Voluntary played on the balcony piano, the procession of parents and the bridal party played out. There was a shade of seriousness planted into it. But the joy of a wedding shown forth.

Then came Brady escorting his sister Jody, the bride, down the long St. Mary’s aisle. It’s the moment every father looks forward to, the culmination of years of nurturing and love. Craig would have been beaming. Brady and Jody were amazing, and I was fighting back tears right then.

Fr. Timmerman was back in the sanctuary; his sermons four days apart spanned and brought together events. Father spoke of Craig’s presence with us that day.

I was not able to attend the reception. Friends told me about Jody standing to read the father-of-the-bride speech that Craig had been practicing at home. Just imagining that causes me to choke up again.

In Ecclesiastes, it says there is, “A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” Sometimes those all come together. Blessings to Jody and Jevan as they begin their lives together.

— Randy Krzmarzick farms on the home place west of Sleepy Eye, where he lives with his wife, Pam.