The Night George Said Goodbye: A Dream I’ll Never Forget

Rob WeaverAug 17, 2025

My very close friend: George

George M. Ross Jr. wasn’t just a friend—he was a companion through life’s twists and turns.

The ACE train

I think I met George on the Ace Train when we both were living in Livermore. Making the trek down to Mountain View on the train. That hour long ride made the commute predictable. Driving would generally take just as long on a good day, or be hours long on a bad one.

Because we were all riding on that commuter train, we formed friendships. Sitting together and getting to know each other. We had birthday parties, and celebrations, and just a good time.

George was so friendly and approachable that you loved him in an instant. Not sure if he pulled me into the conversation, or he just became part of it. He was one stars of the train family group.

Love of Bicycling

I used to ride my bike over the hill to Mountain View on occasion. That may have been how George and I discovered our love of cycling. We would meet up on occasion and go for a ride around Livermore.

I remember George suggesting we ride up to Danville a couple of times. I can’t remember if we rode all the way to Job Connections. We did make that long slow ride a few times.

I remember riding with George down that trail, and him saying “Hi” or “Howdy” to every person on the trail. He was happy just to greet them. And the smile was the same even as most didn’t respond, although he did enjoy when they did.

Job Connections

After some time, we began going to Job Connections every Saturday. I think it started as a way for us both to give back, but at various points it was also a place for us to try and network to find work.

There were many weekends meeting all sorts of people struggling with the lack of a job, and plenty of opportunities to try and help them bootstrap out of that awful grind.

Project Management

During one of the times we both were out of work (or maybe working and just looking to improve ourselves), we pulled in some people from our Job Connections friends to study for the PMP. I remember it was a serious grind. We met for weeks getting ready for the test. I think George had some test anxiety, so he had to take it a couple of times, but we both got the accomplishment.

For me that led to a few project and program management jobs, and a seat on the board of the SFBAC PMI chapter. I think I pulled George into that, but maybe he pulled me in and we helped revive that chapter (with a lot of work and Policy Governance).

Project and Program Management

During one of the many short contracts doing project management work, I got a call from a VA contractor and took a job with them. I managed to get onto a large program to build out the VA’s national data centers.

As fortune would have it, George was either out of work or looking for an opportunity. I had a mandate to find good people, so I managed to get him onto the team.

That meant we were working together, and working from home mostly. There were the monthly flights to the VA data center HQ, and plenty more opportunities to go on bike rides around Livermore.

We got to be fast friends over the years, we did fun things like going to SF Giants games and watching the Super Bowl at the Vine theater with his son George.

George had that desire to help anyone in need, and was one of the most generous people I know. He always had a kind word, a joke or a smile for someone who was struggling.

Being a consultant for the VA is never a guaranteed job. When the contract renewal came up, George was not part of the crew. I think I lasted a month or two longer thanks to the politics that is VA consulting.

Everything changes

I still remember the day Jason, George’s son, nearly lost his life. While clearing improvised explosive devices, one exploded. George and Linda rushed to his side, and somehow—despite the devastation to half his body—Jason survived.

George served in the military, and during our conversations, he shared stories from his time in Vietnam. That chapter of his life sparked his journey into tech, and I believe it also inspired Jason to follow in his footsteps and serve.

George poured his heart into documenting Jason’s journey—and the lives of those who serve. Every day, without fail, he wrote a blog post, capturing the moments, the emotions, and the stories that mattered most to him and to others.

Karen and I flew to San Diego while Jason was still in intensive care and undergoing his umpteenth surgery to try and repair the damage that the explosive had done by blasting all sorts of bad things from the ground into his body.

I remember George had a few things he needed to take care of for Jason, and he worried that it might inconvenience us. But we were glad to tag along, run errands with him, and spend time together—it was no trouble at all. Just another example of George’s empathy, still worrying about Karen and I as he was busy taking care of Jason and his grand daughters.

Last visit

As Jason continued to recover, the Gary Sinise Foundation gifted him and his family a new home—a powerful gesture of support and gratitude. George and Linda moved in with him, embracing this new beginning together.

The distance made it harder for us to stay in touch. We made the trip to visit them in their new home in Fallbrook, grateful for the chance to reconnect.

We stayed at a nice AirBnB place near their house, got the grand tour, and I believe there was a dedication celebration that week where we got to meet a lot of Jason’s company and be part of everything.

Time flies by

Life kept racing forward, and the years slipped away, even though I always meant to reach out and reconnect.

Then one day, the news hit hard—George had suffered a massive stroke and could no longer care for himself. I wanted to go. I told myself I would. But life kept throwing up roadblocks, and I never made the trip.

When I finally heard he was back home, something shifted. That moment felt different. I knew—it was time to go see him.

The Dream

Just before I woke on the morning of June 20th, 2025 I had the oddest dream

I wrestled with the gate, trying to get it to latch properly. When I finally looked up, a cyclist had stopped across the street, watching quietly.

He looked familiar but took me a minute to recognize. I felt like he had stopped across the street to say “Hi” on his ride.

He pushed off on his pedals and started to ride away—just as I realized it was George M Ross Jr

I kept calling out “George!” at him hoping he’d turn around and we could chat.

For some reason I couldn’t yell loudly enough for him to hear.

It felt like he had come to say goodbye, one last ride past my life before turning the corner.

I started crying and woke up still crying, knowing I would never see him again.

The Loss of a Very Close Friend

I still find myself on the verge of tears mourning the loss of my good friend George. We were best buddies, bicycle compadres and mentors to each other. I miss those long rides now even more.

Everyone who knew George will feel his absence deeply. His spirit lives on in Linda, his children, and his grandchildren—etched into their hearts and souls forever.

I think my last real exchange with George came through one of those Facebook friendship anniversary reminders. I started digging for a photo of the two of us—ideally one with George on a bike. But every picture I found told the same story: George, surrounded by friends and family, flashing that unmistakable smile. Just like in life, he was never alone, always lit up by the people he loved.

Ride on, George. You’ll always be just ahead of me on the trail.