Always, there was an outward ticklish pleasure when my car would head south on I-95 to pay a visit to Devon Quigley. But always, what lurked deep within was the knowledge that my time with him would offer a stark reminder that my standing as a human could never match his.

Devon Quigley, you see, had super powers. He was unable to speak, but his presence resonated loudly. He couldn’t walk, but he was spiritually moving more graciously on this earthly journey than most of us with healthy limbs.

His strength inspired me, his faith left me in awe. And whenever the thought struck me – as it often did – that this was such a devastating and unfair blow to these wonderful people, my eyes would drift toward Devon. He’d be engulfed by a sea of Quigleys and Friends of Quigleys, most of them coming off of a golf course somewhere, all of them laughing, all of them spewing more golf talk, and Dana Quigley made sure that the ship was rightened.

“His accident brought this family way closer together than it ever would have been,” said Dana. “God has used Devon to bring us together and Devon has served him for 12 years. Now he is free. He’s going somewhere better.”

Late this past Saturday night, Dana Quigley from his home in Florida FaceTimed his son in Rumford, R.I. Likely, the conversation was about golf, Boston sports, and the upcoming annual pilgrimage in which Dana would travel to Rhode Island, pack a van, and drive his only son to Florida where Devon could spend weeks around the game of golf that was always going to be his life.

An hour after finishing that FaceTime, Dana Quigley got a call from his daughter, Nicole, who owns a home right around the corner from where her brother lived in the childhood home with their mother, Charlotte. Nicole could barely get the words out, telling Dana that Devon – 39 years old and 12 years removed from that car accident in Riviera Beach, Fla., that left him with a traumatic brain injury – had died. Simply, he had stopped breathing.

As excruciatingly painful as it is to comprehend that Devon Quigley stopped breathing, it is imperative to embrace the greater truth. That Devon Quigley never stopped believing and his family and friends and admirers never stopped loving him and believing his story had the makings of a miracle.

No one believed more than Charlotte Quigley, who heard doctors say in December of 2011 that there was no hope, that Devon would not go home. Dana Quigley concedes “I was prepared to turn him over to Jesus,” but Charlotte wasn’t having any of that. She adamantly rejected any suggestion that she leave her son in a TBI unit.

“The greatest part of this journey was Devon had his mother,” said Dana. “Charlotte did more than the next 10 mothers could have done.”

Charlotte and Nicole went the “divide and conquer” route, caring for Devon 24/7. Dana made frequent trips home and helped coordinate all the necessary changes to the home. Charity tournaments and a parade of professionals worked their magic to raise funds so that the home in Rumford was equipped with necessary beds and furniture.

Where once there was “no hope,” soon there was a flood of love and faith.

Where once hospital stays were standard fare, Charlotte commandeered rides to bible studies and prayer groups.

Where once their world was a cold, unknown black hole, the Quigleys’ faith paid off in summer birthdays for Devon with pizza trucks, bounce houses for kids, and visits from his University of Rhode Island teammates. Winters involved trips to Bear Lakes CC in West Palm Beach where Devon had played many a round with his father and could feel a part of the golf world he so loved so much.

To watch Devon raise his eyes – he was happy and even laughing – at Dana’s complaints of giving too many shots, to Uncle Paul bemoaning youngsters in their 60s not believing he was in his mid-70s and should be on the up tees . . . well, it was a box seat to pure joy. Gracious, how they love their golf.

True, a young man’s dream had once lived within the heart of Devon Quigley. After URI he chose to caddie summers for his best friend, his father, and what a beautiful pair they made on the PGA Tour Champions, though Devon also wanted to play professionally like his dad and his cousin, Brett Quigley.

To know Dana Quigley is to know the most grateful golfer in history. He never fulfilled his dream of a lucrative PGA Tour career (three fulltime years, two part-time seasons, top 125 just once) but bless his no-nonsense persona, he always accepted ownership.

Excessive drinking had curtailed his PGA Tour bid and left him without a card at the age of 35. He finally quit drinking at 43 and seven years later he pushed off on one of the most wondrous golf stories ever – a senior golfer who would win 11 times and pile up $15m.

“Every day is Disney World,” Dana would often say, and so many of those days included Devon by his side. “My best friend, my caddie, such a cool kid.”

Giving up the booze? That was so often intertwined into Dana Quigley stories. Ah, but accepting the Lord Jesus Christ? It wasn’t reported as often, though it meant everything to him. As his success accumulated, Dana Quigley embraced perspective and found it easy to be grounded, so if you ask him to name a career highlight it comes without hesitation.

“The greatest moment of my life was when Devon accepted Christ and was baptized,” said Quigley.

The baptism took place two weeks before the accident and it is why Dana Quigley, like his ex-wife Charlotte, and daughter Nicole felt a comfort in their souls and could carry on with a relentless commitment. They truly believed who was watching over their son and their brother.

“I remember begging God (after the accident) that if we just had one more laugh, one more day with him, and one more hug, I would give anything,” said Nicole, who, like her parents, gave everything and received more laughs, more time, and more hugs with him than they might have imagined back in 2011.

“I will forever miss his body here on earth and will patiently await our next meeting,” she said. “He was a bright light in this world before and after his accident.”