musings
Time passes, lives shift...and pass.
Our neighbor Ken, across the street, is dying (non-COVID). We have been neighbors for over 20 years. They are older and were always pretty curmudgeonly, and we were the young newlyweds who moved in across the street. They didn't seem to care much for the friendly neighbor thing, but were nice enough.
As we have gotten older, they have either softened or softened to us, or maybe both. They talked to us more at the mailbox or in the driveway, and sometimes emailed updates to us on important life things. I always liked running into them.
Ken just retired in February, just before COVID hit in earnest. He is 85, and was having a tough time giving up his work--his own fire extinguisher business he's had for over 30 years. He gave it up in time for COVID and severe heart disease which is now terminal. Life can be so cruel.
I told them they could call any time for anything they need; but they never did, until today. He just needed a store run for applesauce and bananas to help him take his meds. I wondered why his wife, Sharon, didn't go to the store, but I found out when I dropped it off along with some flowers. While he was in the hospital the past three weeks having 25 pounds of fluid drained out of his body (!!), she was in a separate hospital with gall stones! They didn't know if they'd see each other again.
But here they are. Back home. Together. He is so gaunt. Breathless. Tired. I stood at the door in my mask just chatting with them a little. I wanted to do so much more. I want to hug him but I can't even cross their threshold to visit with them.
Sharon informed me they started hospice for him yesterday. They have grown kids, and even a grown granddaughter; but they live far away, and can't visit easily right now with COVID of course, because the same assistance could be a vulnerability in exposure. They are coming tomorrow to install some OT measures to help Ken be more comfortable.
I can't help but wish we knew each other better all these years. We have very little in common, and we weren't close for a reason. But still... And I can't help but think about Chris and I when we're older, and what we'll do when our bodies begin to fail in earnest, and we only have each other. So my heart breaks for them now, and a bit for future us in my mind.
It doesn't help that his name is Ken, which endeared me to him because that was the name of both my father and my brother, and who both died under fairly sudden and miserable circumstances.
I just...had to get that out of me, I guess. I've been weeping off and on every since I walked out of their driveway and I don't know what to do for them, or to take this weight off my heart today.
As we have gotten older, they have either softened or softened to us, or maybe both. They talked to us more at the mailbox or in the driveway, and sometimes emailed updates to us on important life things. I always liked running into them.
Ken just retired in February, just before COVID hit in earnest. He is 85, and was having a tough time giving up his work--his own fire extinguisher business he's had for over 30 years. He gave it up in time for COVID and severe heart disease which is now terminal. Life can be so cruel.
I told them they could call any time for anything they need; but they never did, until today. He just needed a store run for applesauce and bananas to help him take his meds. I wondered why his wife, Sharon, didn't go to the store, but I found out when I dropped it off along with some flowers. While he was in the hospital the past three weeks having 25 pounds of fluid drained out of his body (!!), she was in a separate hospital with gall stones! They didn't know if they'd see each other again.
But here they are. Back home. Together. He is so gaunt. Breathless. Tired. I stood at the door in my mask just chatting with them a little. I wanted to do so much more. I want to hug him but I can't even cross their threshold to visit with them.
Sharon informed me they started hospice for him yesterday. They have grown kids, and even a grown granddaughter; but they live far away, and can't visit easily right now with COVID of course, because the same assistance could be a vulnerability in exposure. They are coming tomorrow to install some OT measures to help Ken be more comfortable.
I can't help but wish we knew each other better all these years. We have very little in common, and we weren't close for a reason. But still... And I can't help but think about Chris and I when we're older, and what we'll do when our bodies begin to fail in earnest, and we only have each other. So my heart breaks for them now, and a bit for future us in my mind.
It doesn't help that his name is Ken, which endeared me to him because that was the name of both my father and my brother, and who both died under fairly sudden and miserable circumstances.
I just...had to get that out of me, I guess. I've been weeping off and on every since I walked out of their driveway and I don't know what to do for them, or to take this weight off my heart today.
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