Curtis Klingle

A Goodbye to a Good Man

I attended the funeral of Charles “Cliff” Clifton on May 17^th. Cliff was my friend.

I have been to many funerals and I’ve heard a plethora of eulogies, but few have struck me as being irrefutably authentic. However, this one for my friend, Charles “Cliff” Clifton would be among that number.

Cliff was authentically “good,” and I can assure you that I can make that declaration from a position of experience. Furthermore, I would have words with any man that said otherwise. When I first met him, I immediately noted his smile, and that his smile was also present in his eyes; that my friend is something that cannot be faked. What is more, as I grew to know him, I found his joy and mirth to be infectious, and I also discovered his heart of gold. This may be one of those overused metaphors, but regarding Cliff, it was an accurate descriptor of the man; he truly had a heart for people, and he opened it to all.

When I say, “all” I mean to anyone. I recall the many men and women in the county jail he spoke with and extended that big heart to, and I have also heard the stories of those he touched while working for the prison system. There is no telling how many more he influenced out in the community. If one did not see the love in that man, it was because they were either blind or so filled with darkness that they couldn’t.

Another attribute Cliff displayed was that of meekness. Few of us understand the word much less ever attain this, what I would deem, one of the highest attributes. Contrary to what most think, meekness is not weakness; meekness is strength veiled. It was something I would describe as artful, watching him interact with others, especially those in his care in the county jail. He was soft spoken and kind to everyone, and few ever experienced that veiled strength. If they did, I can assure you they earned it, and it would be dispensed purely as a defensive measure with no malevolence. Cliff personified the attribute of meekness.

He would speak of his family sometimes and share the love he held for each of them. His love and concern for his beloved wife, his children, and his friends. When he spoke of his grandson, I witnessed what could be termed, a consuming love. He loved him and absolutely beamed when he spoke of him. Actually, as I reflect on this, he spoke of that boy every single time we talked. I loved hearing him speak about others, simply because it was always good, and I can honestly say that I never heard him speak ill of anyone. Cliff seemed to have mastered the ability to view people through the lens of goodness and I admired him for it.

I was shocked when I received the news of his passing. He was young by today’s standards, a mere 55 years old, and I felt the loss immediately; I would never see his smile again, nor would I hear the kindness in his words. My mind was flooded with memories of him, and the words, “Cliff was a good man,” kept reverberating through my mind.

While at the funeral, the officiant opened the floor for people to say a word or share a story about Cliff. Every story spoke of his heart for others and how he had invested himself in each person. Cliff didn’t just say he loved you, he showed you he did, and what I heard repeated with each speaker was, “Cliff was a good man.”

Cliff touched every life he encountered in a genuine way. I really think my friend either attained or got very close to the pinnacle of what we should all be aspiring to: true unconditional love. There was no façade, no airs with this man, and I will sorely miss him. This world is a dimmer place without you, my brother.

Until we meet again. 

Curtis Klingle