On any given day in any of our lives, the unknown inhabits a part of our consciousness but is camouflaged by the sweet mundane things in life, hidden by the joy and love given to each of us by our family, friends and our passions. We know of it now, though, because we have lost one of our dearest.

How to speak of the unspeakable? How to comprehend the unfairness of the incomprehensible? Neither seems possible without the passage of a moment in time, the measurement of which is infinitesimal with the loss of a leader. Within this moment of time that feels so deeply unjust and beyond the boundaries of reality, I can speak only of the person I knew, deeply respected and loved — as we all forever will.

Luke Gurney was a master of pursuit, his energy high and constant. His life was brimming with community and friends, but his family was his core, his soul and his being. He inspired selflessly and was rewarded with a knowing spirit that seemed to come with the quiet satisfaction he enjoyed from the achievements of others. His caring generosity was tireless, manifested in the role of vanguard as he watched over younger fishermen. Luke’s telephone was the first to ring when a returning vessel was past the time to reach the dock at night.

In our meetings just after 2 a.m. at the dock, coiling our lines to the roar of the warming diesels echoing off the harbor and bows getting ready to head east, we would talk — sometimes far longer than we should have as our crew knew that we were tacking on precious minutes to a long and arduous trip. Luke’s voice would be loud with excitement, whether the topic was regulations, moon phases and tides, or an update on his latest hockey game. But that voice, filled with joy, would always come back full circle to his two boys who, some day, he thought, would join him as mates, captains.

On the dock today, as heads hung low and eyes searched for answers, one of us asked the question: “Why do they always take the good fishermen?”

It was quietly answered: “My grandfather told me that they have to take the good fishermen because heaven needs angels to watch over all the other ones.”

Luke was our better angel in life and is our guardian now. And however agonizing and heart-wrenching, I humbly believe that Capt. Luke Gurney would want all of us to rise from the sweet mundane things in life and speak with the power of joy and love the name that so proudly calls from the bow of his fishing vessel: No Regrets.

Wes Brighton is a commercial fisherman who lives in Chilmark.