Alex rose early most days to enjoy the quiet, pre-dawn stillness and watch the sunrise. He’d put on a beanie and wrap himself in a comfortable blanket, and he’d tuck into the best chair he could find. There was always an extra spot beside him — Alex made sure of it — for one of his brothers, should they also rise early.
A thoughtful observer of all things. That was Alex. Not just sunrises. Not just woodshop projects or physics problems, or discussions about life and purpose — but of all those things, too. More than that, Alex was an observer of people, of pets. He listened way more than he spoke. He paid attention, closely. He connected with others of all ages and backgrounds.
And after Alex had listened for a good long while, when he had absorbed enough to feel confident he had something worthy to offer, Alex would contribute. It almost always was positive, some appreciation of goodness or wisdom, some useful skill or knowledge, a silver lining buried in a painful development. When Alex spoke, the people who knew him listened. His words carried weight.