I saw the firetrucks and police cars blocking the street, so I took a detour on this morning's jog. My journalistic curiousity lost out to common sense, which said I would be in the way. My guess was house fire. A mile down the road, I saw news helicopters circling that same area I was convinced it was a house fire or some other tragedy. Sadly, I was right.
On the way home, I slowed to a walk and strolled through the scene. News trucks, fire trucks, paramedics and concerned residents lined the street. The fire was out, and water poured from a water main inadvertently busted during the rescue. I noticed the house in passing I had noticed the people in their yard, maybe the girl out walking her dog, the motorhome parked beneath the cover in their back yard.
The two survivors of the fire were seated in lawn chairs across the street from their smoldering home. At the time, I didn't realize the woman lost her mother, or the man lost his wife. I just knew how emotional it can be when anything happens to your home and figured that's what drew their tears.
A lady across the street was yammering at parademics, who had turned their truck around in her driveway. She was complaining about damage to her automatic sprinkler heads. An old guy in a bath robe asked a firefighter about the water main I think he lived next door. Gawkers and passers-by (me included) took in the scene, curious and heartbroken. When I got home and heard on the news that the fire took a life, I was even more heartbroken.
It made me remember the time I was driving home to my parents house and saw an ambulance a block away at my friend Stacey's house. I saw paramedics wheel her mother out into the ambulance. The heart attack kept her from ever returning to that house, and left Stacey without a mom the year after we both graduated high school.
How awful is the finality of death. How little comfort can be spread at the time. Even we Christians when the departed was a child of Jesus Christ often grieve at the loss. After all, we're still here and now they're not. We've got to carry on until we're promoted to glory. It's all sad. But that's what grieving is for, and don't let anyone tell you that there's nothing that comes from it. When the process helps us heal, it is God's way of telling us everything will be OK.
A reporter for the large metro paper near here died last week. He was 37, married, and the couple had a 7-month-old boy. He succumbed to a brief illness. Here today, gone tomorrow. A real shock.
My point to this? Know your neighbors.
I don't mean only the people next to whom you live and keep your stuff. Yes, know them, because in the face of tragedy, they can be a hand to hold. When they are in need, they are the ones you need to reach out to. The world is small: know your neighbors and make it better. Say hello. See a need? Meet it, even if it's just mowing the lawn, helping carry groceries or picking up their garbage cans from the street. Ask how people are doing. Get to know them at least a little. I'm terrible at this, and there's no good excuse for it.
If we wait, it could be too late.
Life is so fragile.
Our street is planning it's first block party in June. I think that's a good thing. Especially in the big city. It's comforting to know the people around you. Even meeting once has the potential for a bond that could be beneficial for both parties.
So, T, how are you doing?
:)
There is an old man that lives next to me. I have no idea how old he is but he walks like he is 100. He has an amazing vegetable garden and he calls his cat is a high-pitch "Keeetie, Keeetie" every morning.
Your story touched me. I'll have to make an effort to talk to my old neighbor more often.
profoundly sad. made my heart hurt.
It's important to live each day fully. It could be your last, or the last of someone you care about.
I try to give smiles away as often as I can in the course of each day.
When you've lost someone important to you, the realization of this possibility is always with you
Strange to read this in a time like this.
A close friend of ours died last week. He was my husband's best friend; they grew up together. He was 36 and left a wife and two children. The funeral is on Friday.
I can't get over the unreality of it all. I still want to wake up to find that it's just a nightmare.
My heart goes out for his family.
That was really comforting, T-bone. I've been stressed at work lately, but I really do have so many blessings in my life I can count. I'm going to call my parents today to see how they're doing. I really am lucky to have my family around...