A Tribute to MahaRushi, El Rushbo, my friend...

Life will never be the same.

Sigh… The world, pretty dark lately, has lost a beacon. Yesterday, I rolled out of bed and, expecting a place-sitter for America’s “Doctor of Democracy,” tuned in, hoping, praying… And YES… Fiiiinaly… At the “Golden E-I-B Mic.” 

MahaRUUUUUUSHI!!

I smiled… It had been weeks (nearly two) without him, and I missed America’s Truth Detector, the “lovable fuzzball,” as he calls himself. Like Old Glory in the breeze, Rush assures millions, soothes the proletariat - “Everything is okay, it’s going to be all right” - and the night before, I’d been positive... I pray when I walk and, praying for Rush, I felt peace. In describing progress, he had used analogy - sport analogy - and had put himself, recently, “on second base,” with expectation of touching third.

And it wasn’t old… December? Maybe, I thought, he made it—moved UP!  Back and swinging.

So, yeah, I was positive because Rush is positive (his legacy) and felt good… I never considered silence, that I’d tune the dial and not hear him again. 

But I realized—it was old. They returned, after the “obscene profit time-out,” to past segments - “the legacy of Limbaugh” - and I knew… It was over. MahaRushi, “the soundtrack of my life,” lay dead... I would never again hear: “Greetings, music lovers, thrill-seekers, and conversationalists across the fruited plain… It is great to have you here, great to be with you—Rush Limbaugh, at the EIB Network, the Limbaugh Institute for Advanced Conservative Studies.” 

I would never hear that again. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

And now it’s evening, but I’m no longer crying… Just blue. There’s a hole in my heart because life has changed; because Rush is the anchor on a tension wire, and the wire snapped… He always said “I’ll tell you when to panic,” and, in departing, sadly, I think he just did.

That said, he’s one of the Finest Americans ever born, to ever draw breath, and it made him humble… He was the best because America is the best and he strived to emulate and reflect who we are. Truth was his guide, Reality his road, and now I’m crying…

Again.

Crying for Katherine… For Dittoheads and Deplorables… Crying for what we’ve lost… Because he was special, Rushbo, and he made us feel special, too.  

Still, he said he had “talent on loan from God,” and knowing he’s with the Banker—it helps. 

Yesterday he repaid God, laughed beside Him… On golden paths, in golden fields.

Because it’s ALL gold now—the chair, studio, mic… That Rush is with God, that his fairways gleam, sans suffering, braces joy… Dad is with him, Mama, too… Reunited.  Forever.

And, in sadness, that helps… That Rush is on-air in air eases pain.  

Yes, even as we cry, it fills the hole.

~ Greg Halvorson

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