The first time I sought to do business with Vince Motyl was 13 years ago last spring when the print edition of this newspaper debuted.

Entering his Washington Boulevard office, I pitched him on becoming an advertiser – and he accepted.

But the intersection with Vince that I recall most poignantly occurred 2½ years ago,  February 2015.

His beloved Linda, after 50 years and 3 months of marriage, had just died following a long, long battle with kidney disease.

Together they contested the disease in each other’s bodies.

Two days ago, it claimed Vince. He died at 75 after undergoing surgery at Cedars-Sinai.

When Vince and I spoke in the wake of Linda’s death, we had crucial circumstances in common.

In our home, my Diane was suffering from a 2½-year losing battle against the creeping effects of ALS.

As I was seeking to comfort Vince, I told him that likely in the next few months he would be extending similar condolences toward me.

I hoped that knowing we shared circumstances would strengthen him – as if I could provide succor.

I said the words.

But I did not really believe what I was telling Vince.

I mainly wanted him to know he was not alone.

Since our resistance to ALS had begun, Diane consistently had summoned previously unknown superhuman strength and courage to resist the onrush.

She never blinked, mentally or physically.

Less than 6 months after Linda died, Diane died, Aug. 14, 2015, one day after saying her final words: “It feels strange to be leaving this world.”