Howard Coday

Some people leave footprints so deep in our lives that their absence is felt in a thousand quiet moments for the rest of our days. So if you still miss them, Still take about them, Still cry for them, Still carry them with you -- don't apologize. Love doesn't end when a heartbeat does. Rex, I am so grateful you are my brother. I am a better person for knowing you. I will forever remember and miss you.

Rex, you're really going to be missed. You are a good brother you were a protector Masha I'm so sorry for your loss. I am praying for you.

We grieve with you. This is such a loss—there are no words to express how deeply sorry we are. He was a good man. Sasha and Olga - Brother and Sister in Law

Rex & I became fast friends when he wound up in the class devoted to putting out the Stamps High School student newspaper during the 1976-77 school year, when he was a junior & I was editing The Buzz for the 2nd straight year. Other than me he was the only male in the group of probably at least a dozen, so I guess we were sort of natural allies in that sense. We knew each other to say "hi" to before that, dating back to at least the summer of '68 when the two local Peewee League baseball teams were being put together. I was struck, to say the least, by how this 9-or-so-year-old kid was chewing tobacco. That was sort of emblematic of how he grew up some distance from town, not that Stamps was anywhere near constituting some sort of center of sophistication. Anyway, we bonded over comic books & the like. We shared lively imaginations, & he was one smart guy, regardless of whether the teachers & administrators realized it (I have no idea if they did or didn't, but I have my doubts). Life dealt him some particularly harsh blows as he came up, especially during that school year, & my heart bled for my friend. It's bleeding much more for him now, of course, & for his loved ones. Until late March 23 I had last seen him in probably the spring of '81, when I ran into him & another friend a couple of years older than him & 1 older than me while they were working together in Lewisville at the company I was gathering info on & taking photos of for the Magnolia newspaper. I'd been back in Arkansas for only a month & a day when I was able to drive down to St. Michael's in Texarkana to see him. At least I got that one now-cherished opportunity to see one of the best men I have ever known in my life. Neither of us believed in much of anything, & certainly I still don't, but I'm truly thankful to ... fate? ... for that. My last memory of him will always be having the privilege of leaning over to kiss the top of his head before I had to drive back to North Little Rock. Though, again, we shared deep skepticism toward all things even remotely smacking of religion, I've long harbored the sneaking suspicion that some form of afterlife exists. Rex makes me want to hope to (pardon the expression) God that that is indeed the case, & that he's enjoying the hell out of himself despite desperately missing those who loved him, of whom I am most certainly one. I am crying over him as I type these words, but I also know his pain is finally over. After Billy Fitzgerald was gracious enough to put us back in touch with one another, we finally got a chance after nearly 45 years to reconnect by phone the afternoon of Feb. 22, while I was being driven to North Little Rock by my first wife, who quite literally rescued me from dire circumstances in Montgomery, Ala. I told Rex that I knew, of course, that he had 3 sisters whom he loved & had protected while they were all growing up. I told him he had a brother, too -- to whom he was talking on the phone at that very moment. I miss you, Rex. I miss you badly. I always will. Knowing you was one of the true privileges of my life.

He was a very kind and honorable person—gentle and charming. I am incredibly sorry that I will never be able to see him again. Helen