"When You Meet A Friend Like Wes,"

"You’ve got a friend forever."

One of the things that convinced me to marry Wes was that he was an amazing friend, and he had amazing friends. 

Over the course of our marriage, Wes's friends became mine, mine became his.  And we met so many new friends together. 

So many of those friends - from all stages of our lives - were at the funeral.  Some I hugged and spoke with, some I saw only from a distance, some I'm sure I didn't see at all.  And many couldn't come but were praying for and loving us from afar.  All of that meant the world to me and, I'm sure, to Wes.

Friendship was one of the highest priorities in his life.  An obvious topic to be addressed at his funeral.

And Ryan was the obvious choice of orator (why don't I have a moving photo of you from any of those days, Ry?!): 

"I think one of the best measures of a friend is if they’re someone you know you can turn to when it matters most. A few years ago my wife went into labor 3 months early with our twins. As we raced to the hospital, it became clear the children could be born at any minute, which would’ve given them very little chance for survival. At the time, I was kind of on auto-pilot. Just reacting on instinct. So only later did I look at my phone, and realize the 2 calls I made. And I think the order of those calls is important. First, I called Wes & Lori, and asked them to pray for us. And then I called 9-1-1 to ask how to deliver a baby.

When we were in high school, I think our parents always felt a little more at ease when they knew Wes was with us. They knew he was the good kid who would keep us in line. But Wes didn’t always quell our fun. He knew he had to choose his battles. He was the first to jump off the Earl’s second story roof onto their trampoline. In Junior High, he saved up his lunch money so we could buy hundreds of rolls of toilet paper on the weekends. Wes could hit a moving car with a water-balloon from 200 ft. away. We explored abandoned mines, we went fish-tailing in his little orange slug bug, and we ran around half of Las Vegas in underground sewer tunnels. We shot bottle rockets at each other, set off dry-ice bombs, and single handedly eliminated our neighborhood’s pigeon problem with our BB guns. Wes was my belay when we rappelled out our friend’s second story window with a garden hose. He was also there when we tried to parachute out that same window with a bed sheet. And he was there 3 weeks later to help me cut off my cast so I could go swimming at Warm Springs. Wes narrowly avoided arrest when we turned the fountains at CaesarsPalace into the world’s largest bubble bath. And he was sitting shotgun when at 13 years old we took Kim Custer’s Volkswagen bus for a really bumpy joy ride around the block. Wes was the one who figured out what the mysterious 3^rd pedal was for, pushing in the clutch, and bringing us to a stop just inches from the back bumper of a neighbor’s polished 1957 Chevy. So yeah, Wes knew how to have fun. But when it really mattered, you could always count on him to stand up for what was right.

Now obviously it’s been sad to watch Wes’ physical body deteriorate over the past several months. But I’d like to share an experience that puts in perspective how Wes felt about our physical bodies, vs. our spirits. When we were 16, our friend Joe moved from Las Vegas to St. George. So our group of friends would drive back and forth quite often. And we started racing to see who could make the best time on the 2 hour commute. One of us had made it in an hour and 15 minutes. Only to have Joe eclipse us with a blistering 1 hour, 12. So Wes and I set off in hopes of breaking Joe’s insurmountable record. It’s been 15 years, and it’s still way too soon to tell Wes’ mom how fast we were driving. But suffice it to say, we were well into the triple digits. I had the steering wheel, while Wes monitored our pace, and scanned the horizon for cops. We started to pass a semi-truck, just as we came to the crest of a hill. So we were side by side with this big rig, when we came over the hill, and saw another semi, broken down in the middle of our lane, less than a hundred yards in front of us. Wes and I glanced at each other in slow motion. We realized that even if I slammed on the breaks, we’d still be doing 80 or 90 mph when we rear-ended the truck. So Wes yells“Go!” and I floored it. And with inches to spare on each side, we managed to thread the needle and dive between these 2 trucks. I pulled off to the side of the road, white as a ghost, and trembling. Wes looked over at me, laughed, and said “That was close.” Then he looked down at his watch and pronounced “You’re 30 seconds behind the pace.” Later that night, a group of about 20 friends gathered together. It was suggested that we go to a movie with some inappropriate content. And that’s when Wes took a stand. “No way guys. Not a chance. We’re watching something else.” This same kid, who’d chuckled at the fact that I’d nearly killed him just hours earlier, stepped up, and refused to allow us to take even the smallest step towards jeopardizing our moral principles. Wes didn’t care what happened to his physical body. Just as long as his character was intact.

In the ward we grew up in, there were about 20 young men in our age group. And like most young men’s groups, we had a rival ward that lived nearby. They had a large group of boys our age too. As is normal, a few of their boys went on missions, stayed true to their principles, and stuck with the church. But most of them fell away. Wes was the first from our group to leave for a mission. And at one point during his mission, our little ward had 23 missionaries out in the field. I’ve often wondered what the difference was in our ward, and our neighboring ward. They went to the same high school we did, had the same seminary teachers, the same good parents, and quality church leaders. They were in the same socio-economic group, and neighborhood. And I’ve come to realize that the one difference was that our young men’s group had Wes Truman, and theirs didn’t. Everyone talks about the dangers of peer-pressure. Well I tell you, it can be an amazing thing. And I saw how the influence of one courageous young man, can truly change the world. Due largely to Wes’ example, while he was in the mission field, our ward also sent missionaries to Oklahoma, Iowa, Wisconsin, Argentina, Bolivia, South Africa, Australia, Poland, Guatemala, Brazil, Sweden, Hong Kong, Russia, Japan, Italy, Germany, Spain, Ecuador, Chile, Korea, and of course, Norway. So yeah, I’d say Wes changed the world.

One of Wes’ favorite scriptures was Matthew 6:19-21. “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” And Wes believed that those Treasures in Heaven, some of the only things we can take with us after this life, are the relationships we forge here on earth. Wes cherished those relationships. He loved his friends and family more than anyone I’ve ever met.

Wes, I think I can safely say that I speak on behalf of each and every one of your friends sitting in this room today, when we tell you Thank You. Because of you, we’re better parents and spouses, better children and siblings. Because of your influence, we’re better friends, and better people. We love you Wes."