The next morning he received a call from the hospital: Garrick was in full cardiac arrest.

"I was there in about 20 minutes," says David. "I asked them what happened, and they said, 'We don't know.' "

Three days later about 20 family members and friends gathered in Garrick's room to say goodbye. They each took their turns to say a last few words to Garrick, and then the life support system was pulled. About 12 minutes later he died.

"I felt very strong that he was ready," says Carol. "I feel he's much happier. He's not in pain, and he doesn't have to worry anymore."

Searching for meaning in all of this, David says, "This can happen to anyone. Craig was the greatest guy — he had the highest values — but he fell victim to drugs and the need to compete."

As I say my own good-bye to Craig Garrick, I keep thinking of something he told me the last time we talked, shortly after his knee-replacement surgery: "Hopefully, I've been through my hell, and now I can have some heaven."

I like to think that now he does.

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E-mail: drob@desnews.com