As many of my older readers know, each passing year brings the sadness with losing one friend after another.

I remember my grandfather talking to me after another friend of his had died. “You know, grandson, if I don’t die pretty soon, I am not going to have any pallbearers left.”

I see his point, even though he really cared about living longer. If for nothing else, to watch his Cubs.

I wrote where the class of 1960 at Central High went from 55 out of the graduating class of 60 being alive for our 50th class reunion to only 28 still alive for our 65th. Most of my closer friends have died from that class, but that has been true of my golfing partners and other friends as well.

Then comes my working life. When I started in Kankakee in 1970, there were four partners and me. By 1973, there were only two, as the other two had decided to practice on their own.

I was given the chance to become a named partner to my own surprise, and for a while, it was Ackman, McKnelly and Marek. But I was on the hunt for someone else more my age.

At the time, as I have recently written, I was trying a bunch of cases in Iroquois County at the new courthouse in Watseka, many as the first Public Defender there. There were three sitting judges. Two were more senior and handled the larger cases, such as felonies, as compared to misdemeanors. The associate judge heard many of my preliminary matters, small claims and juvenile cases. His name was Robert Wayne Boyd.

He was eight or nine years older than I, and I was always impressed with his rulings, even those against my clients. More impressive was his kindness and fairness, not only to the defendant but also to the lawyers. I cannot say the same for one of the superior judges.

As time went on and we moved to the new bank building in downtown Kankakee, I kept feeling that we needed another lawyer. Someone who could handle the tougher cases that were being dumped on me by the senior partners, but also someone more near my position in the law and in life.

It seemed to me that of all the lawyers in the area who met my desire in a partner, Robert Boyd fit all the wants. Smart, kind and ready to tackle the next case. So, I took a chance and asked to meet with him. I assured him that this had nothing to do with any pending cases.

I explained to him how our office worked, be it case assignments to how we got paid. I explained that I was getting buried in jury trial cases that neither senior partner wanted to have. Certainly, the bases of some of the disputes were not at their level, be it the significance of the case, the monetary return expected or the frustration that was sure to follow. Some cases will just wear you out.

We had a few more discussions, and he said that he was on board. He announced his coming resignation to the court and proper officials. The date of transfer would be in early 1974. We had an office in Kankakee, but he was from Watseka. We planned to open an office there and he would run it, but he would also be needed in the Kankakee office. He was in.

Then the unexpected happened as he finished his judicial duties. The associate judges in Illinois received a large increase in their salaries, over $10,000 a year. And I had lured him out of that raise. Bob did mention it from time to time, more as a poke in my side than anything serious. He was on board.

The years went on. His specialty was litigation, but he preferred appellate work over jury trials, although he had his share of each. Eventually, I would get more of the trial level, and he would have all the appeals, and that was the right choice. He was great on the appeals. He shared with me more than once that he preferred talking to the appellate judges, who were usually quite smart, as opposed to the jurors.

In our private lives, we also became best of friends. Bob was my best man at my second marriage. We bought a condo together in Winter Park, Colorado, and later a farm in Kankakee County. Both turned out to be good investments, and we never disagreed on expenses, who got to use the condo or when it was time to sell.

But the one thing I cherished most about this man was his sense of right and his philosophical approach to life, regardless of the level of seriousness. My favorite example was when I was invited to join a large Chicago law firm’s tent along the 4th hole of the U.S. Open when it was held at Olympia Fields. It would start about 10 a.m. on a Saturday with food and beverages and an incredible view of the best golfers in the world.

One problem. The sister of a very close friend had died, and her funeral was also that day. I was in a quandary. I decide to ask Bob’s opinion on my choice.

I walked down the hall to his office and explained my predicament. He looked at me and waited a bit and then replied, “Marek, if you had to walk all the way down the hall to ask me that question, you knew the answer, but you just didn’t like it.” Ah, the true judger of the facts, answered in less than 30 words. I went to the funeral.

Bob passed away two weeks ago in Florida at the age of 91. I have missed Bob since the day he retired, and now there is a larger hole. Rest well, Bob. I am sure you are headed in the right direction. More than a few people will miss your advice, your knowledge and your kindness.

• Dennis Marek can be reached at llamalaw23@gmail.com.