My neighbor died, and I am sad.
 |
| Not the actual House. Image generated by AI to protect privacy |
Not because I will miss him, but because I never got to know him.
He just was the man who lived in That House on
the Corner.
We’ve lived here, right next door
to That House on the Corner, for more than four years, and I’ve laid eyes on
the guy only three times.
The first time, he was in his backyard,
and I was just coming out into mine. I waved. He waved back and walked inside.
It was winter and I guess he was cold. I think he’d just brought his dog
inside.
The second time I saw him was several
months later. The guy from That House on the Corner was out front with his dog.
The dog came over to greet me, and I waved to “Herman” (that’s when I finally learned
his name, which, by the way, is not really Herman but we’ll call him that here
to protect the family’s privacy) and I walked up to introduce myself and shake
his hand. The conversation lasted maybe three minutes. He seemed nice enough,
just not a talker, I guess.
A few months later, after we were
somewhat more settled into our new house and not embarrassed about boxes and
disarray of having just moved in, we reached out to a bunch of our neighbors to
invite them to our home for a little meet-and-greet. Although we had met many
of them at this point, we still really hadn’t had a chance to socialize much. The
idea was to get to know more of our neighbors.
Of course, we invited the people
from That House on the Corner. His wife came, but “Herman” didn’t. We learned
later that our event was the first time many of our other neighbors had met anyone
from That House on the Corner, too.
Over the course of the next couple
of years, we saw his wife occasionally from time to time, usually at our
respective mailboxes. A quick ‘Hi, how ya doing?” But that was about it.
The third and last time I saw “Herman”
was a night just a couple of weeks ago. His wife called in a panic. “Herman”
had been having difficulties recently with his legs and had a walker (we had no
idea), but that evening, his legs gave out completely and he could not get up
from the dining room table.
She needed help moving him into
the living room.
Of course, I went to help. That’s
what neighbors do, even if we are practically strangers.
There he was sitting at the
table, trying to get up and use his walker, but his legs were completely unable
to move. He seemed a little confused, and perhaps a little embarrassed about
his condition. He had no idea who I was, but that didn’t matter to me.
“Herman” was a big guy, much
taller than I, but I moved the table out of the way, hugged him into a standing
position, lifted him into the seat of his walker (which had no back to lean on)
and carried/wheeled him into the living room where I lifted him again into the
recliner. We had to do some shifting around before he was seated comfortably
but ultimately got him settled, while his wife prepared to call for an
ambulance.
“Herman” went to the hospital,
had a couple of more strokes while he was there, and was back and forth between
the hospital and rebab over the next couple of weeks. We stayed in touch with
his wife, texting for updates every couple of days. Their children came in from
wherever they live far away, but I knew she had some support there.
Then we got the message from her.
“Herman” passed away.
I share this story, not to just to
share the sadness of his passing, but for the missed opportunities.
We had no idea all this had been going
on inside That House on the Corner. We never saw “Herman” and his wife never
mentioned anything about his condition on the rare occasions we saw her.
Really, they were complete strangers.
I don’t know what ever happened
to the dog, either. He was an older, but handsome, standard poodle, or some
sort of poodle mix. We occasionally saw the dog out in the backyard and on rare
occasions heard him bark when we first moved in. But it was so rare that we
really didn’t even notice when we stopped seeing or hearing him out there.
How could we have been so
oblivious about That House on the Corner?
Like most people in suburban
homes, we usually go in and out through our garages, rather than the front
door. Our front doors both face the same street, but their garage is on the far
side and, as a corner lot, faces a different street, so there was not even a
rare wave from the driveway, because we couldn’t see their driveway from ours.
So, truly, strangers, living only
a few dozen feet apart, with practically no contact. Blind to each other’s
lives, troubles, successes, needs, and joys. And it was the same with most of
the other people in our neighborhood. No one really got to know the people that
lived in That House on the Corner either.
And now there is no chance to
capture what could have been.
And yet, through this tragedy, there
is a tiny spark of light. I couldn’t do much at the time other than to help him
get into a more comfortable position and advise his wife to call for medical
attention. I am just glad I was able to even that little bit.
I cannot imagine what she would
have been going through if she had to try to help her husband on her own that
night. What if she had not thought to reach out, or if she felt she couldn’t ask,
or that she would be rejected?
Nobody knew the people in That House
on the Corner, and similarly, they didn’t seem to know many people here in the
community, either. But having been to our small neighborhood gathering, his
wife had an opportunity to meet some of us and know that she was welcome. I’d
like to think that that small gesture emboldened her enough to call for help
when she needed it.
Our sense of community is
critical to our survival. I think we all have a natural feeling of community
toward one another, and that we would all come to the aid of a neighbor’s cry
for help – even if we really don’t know each other. I believe that is in our
base nature and I know there truly is goodness in most people’s hearts.
Dr. Mary Tyszkiewicz*, a
researcher who has studied disaster and emergency readiness for decades, has
discovered that people will naturally come to the aid of someone in danger. All
it takes is one person to initiate the response, whether it’s the first person
to start helping, or the person who is bold enough to ask for help.
But the key element to remember
in all of this is that we do not go through life alone. No matter what the
tragedy, hardship or disaster you may face, there is always someone who can be
of help. Maybe they’ve experienced the same thing, maybe they have special
training or knowledge in a certain field, or maybe they are just a spare pair
of hands and a strong back who can be there when you need a hand.
Don’t live your life alone. Reach
out in your community. Get to know the people around you.
You never know when you may need
their help, or even better, when you can help them.
Open your door, open your mind,
and open your heart.
*
Dr. Mary Tyszkiewicz is author of “Practicing For The
Unimaginable: The Heroic Improv Cycle” and founder of Heroic
Improv where she implements the results of her research teaching improvisational theater practices to prepare people
for responding to high-stakes emergencies.
