When I moved in to my house 4 years ago, elderly neighbors who share one of my property lines were right there to say hello, invite me over for coffee and cake, share my problems and joys. They were like the neighborhood grandparents.
Both in their 80s. She’s pretty healthy, but Bill, he’s been ill as long as I’ve known them. A few days ago, he passed away from complications due to pneumonia. It wasn’t unexpected, but it is so sad — they were devoted.
When I went over yesterday with a cake (having adopted the Midwest habit of feeding any trauma), both sons (both adopted–this couple had SO much love to give) were there. One I know slightly, the other I’ve never met. I shared this story about Bill with them and they loved it:
Back in ’06 when I’d moved in, we were chatting over coffee. Some more terrorism had occurred somewhere, a suicide bombing, and Bill said, “I just don’t understand how these young men can believe that killing innocent people will get them 50 virgins in heaven.” We were having a serious conversation, mind you. I said, “I agree, Bill. But I think it’s 72 virgins.”
Bill took a pull on his oxygen and said, “Well, I could only take care of 50.”
Still cracks me up! Goodbye Bill, and have a rollicking time in the next life.