When we first moved into the neighborhood in December 1999 home ownership was fresh and new.
On one of the first major snow events I remember being happy and content to shovel the sidewalk along the avenue. My new neighbor was out with his snowblower and met me in the middle of the block as he had already cleared a substantial amount of "my" portion of sidewalk. We introduced ourselves, noses running in the blowing snow, and he chided me for shoveling by hand. I explained that this was our first house and I was excited by the prospect of being a new home owner and being able to shovel my own walk. I suspect he thought that I was crazy.
They had been in the neighborhood for a while, 20+ years our seniors, with 2 adult children living with them. Polite, hard working, and quiet. Nice as can be. Everything you would want from a neighbor.
As our family of 3 grew to 4 we've spent many days and nights in our backyard. Bonfires, yard parties, and the like. I can't count how many soccer balls have been bounced off of their siding. We would say hello when we were out, often they would have their dog, Misha, out on a walk and we would make small talk about the weather. Everyone once in a while the doorbell would ring and they would bring over a plate of cookies and bars to share. Brenda would often make a plate of treats to share as well.
Over the years, in the middle of frigid Minnesota nights, sun down at 4:30pm I'd be pulling my snow pants and boots on to go and shovel the driveway and sidewalk. Many times if the accumulations were more than a few inches, he or one of his sons would already be out there blowing the entire block for us. I'd wave and smile and yell my thanks over the sound of the Briggs and Stratton engine. And not once in the non-snow seasons did I ever have to pick up Misha droppings. Like I said, ideal neighbors.
Being older than us we'd see the parents start to experience the affects of aging, but they were always still able to get out and about, without relying too much on their sons. Micha was getting walked, the driveway and sidewalk were getting shoveled.
A couple of months ago, their youngest son died unexpectedly of a heart attack while working out.
And then yesterday, Fathers Day, the dad passed away.
As I write this I struggle and wonder if I was a good neighbor, if I could have done anything different. I feel like we've missed out on something more important than a few inches of snow and some rice crispie treats. It's more than a sense of survivors guilt, or sadness of one's passing.
My heart cries for a wife who has lost a husband, partner, and son.
It cries for a son who has lost a sibling and daddy.
I'm sure Misha is sad as well.
Whatever emotion I'm looking for I can't place my finger on it. But whetever it is - it sure does hurt.
