Most lives don’t change with insight. They change with attendance.

We are at Joe’s funeral.

Ahmed, the president of the club, stands at the front of the room.

He clears his throat and smiles in that way people do when they’re holding something back.

“I still remember the day Joe walked into our club,” he says.

“A bit shy. A bit awkward. Almost goofy.”

People laugh softly.

“He filled out the membership form at the counter. Took his time. Asked a few questions. I remember thinking to myself, he won’t be back.”

Ahmed pauses.

“Well, that was thirty years ago.”

Joe did come back.

Week after week.

Season after season.

Fifteen years ago, Joe became president of the club.

Over the years he welcomed dozens of other men who looked just like he did that first day. Unsure. Quiet. Wondering if they belonged.

Joe made them feel welcome.

Some of them became lifelong friends.

Ahmed looks around the room.

“We’ll miss you, Joe,” he says.