Our Brother Bob Oxford

I don't have any fleshly family really.  I mean, of course I do.  I was born of two parents like everybody else, and I have a brother who is six years younger.  My father died in 1997 and frankly, while it is not for me to say and there is going to be a resurrection of both the righteous and unrighteous, I would not be surprised if my father didn't even make the unrighteous cut.  I have a few scattered relatives who are not witnesses and one relative who is a witness that I never see or talk to.  (Long story).  But Jehovah has provided a spiritual family to make up for it. 
In Arkansas, my first best friend was named Rene, with a squiggly accent mark on the second E that I cannot figure out how to do here.  Her father's name was Bob and he was our PO at the time until he had age/health issues and then his son Brent had to take over.  Bob's health continued to deteriorate because of diabetes complications and the effects of age and original sin. 
Bob was a big refrigerator-sized guy with a barrel chest and hands that could have held a professional football.  Two of his sons are refrigerators and one is kind of slim by the family standards, but still tall and broad shouldered.  I have had my wayward youth when I didn't want to talk to any elders, and I have had my own imperfections to deal with and once in a while the imperfections of my brothers as well.  But I never hesitated to go to Bob with any problem, never had any reason not to put my spiritual life in his big old hands and trust him not to crush me. 
One of the little ones in our congregation, at about three years old, thought Bob was Jehovah because he was so big. 
As he got older, he went to the last few DC's in a wheel chair.  I could always locate him next to the rail in that orange section of the Tulsa Convention Center.  I was always happy looking over there and seeing him.  Sometimes, because I don't have a lot of family in the truth like many are blessed to enjoy, I would see them all family reunioning at the conventions and I would look over at Bob and not feel so alone.
The last thing Bob did that was kind of a social thing I guess you would say is attend my daughter Carly's high school graduation.  None of those fleshly family members of mine could be bothered to send my child a card even, but there was her spiritual family.  Bob was in the wheelchair down on the floor of the arena, and everyone else of us were up in the stands.  Carly had to make a big walk around the floor and she passed Bob on her way back to her seat.  All the other kids were waving at people and seeing their family, and Carly could not locate us up in the stands, but she saw Bob. 
Later, I asked her how she felt about it, that her grandmother did not send her a card even, and she said that is okay.  She said, "My spiritual granddad was there."
I have been in Pennsylvania for three years now, and last month, another best friend, Ruth, called me to tell me the news.  I was not too surprised and I was glad Bob was no longer suffering.  I worried about his family he left behind. Bob isn't suffering but they are missing him terribly I know. 
When the announcement was made at the hall, Brother Stacey said this:

Our Brother Bob Oxford has fallen asleep.

Isn't that the most beautiful way to say that you have ever heard?  So at the DC in Reading, that is who I was thinking of when the two sisters in front of us started crying during the song.  I cried too.  I have not even called Rene back.  I can't because everytime I think about doing it my throat closes up and feels hot. 
I am going to tell Bob all these things when he wakes up.