The news of Jims death filled me with incredible sadness and disbelief after having recently experienced two back-to-back traumatic and abrupt family deaths. Death is no ones friend. It barges right into homes whenever it wants and lives without any introduction or invitation. It forces you to your knees and to admit that no one is invincible, whether we like it or not. Jim was an adorable man. He (and Peggy) are my all-time favorite cousins. Jim was a spectacular addition to the extended Moss/Linsell/Morrissy family. To be honest, I seldom saw him over the years, but when I did it was as if we had never been apart. Jim had a non-judgmental quality of such trustworthiness and reliability that it always felt like he (and Peggy) were kindred spirits in whom I could (and did, he-he!) confide all the latest gossip or any of lifes trials and tribulations. To me, trustworthiness dictates the measure (the value) of a man or woman. Jim (and Peggy) excelled on that front as they did in so many other meaningful ways. His loss is especially enormous to me because few, if any, people Ive known measured up to the standard of trustworthiness that he (and Peggy) set. I cannot imagine the bond he had with his own family and friends based on my limited interactions, but I do know that their loss is enormously painful and profound. What a role model! What a loveable, kind man! Ive never known anyone else like him. The real travesty of Jims death is that at this stage of the game, I know I never will again -- and thats a bummer.
Mary K Johnson