♥ Red Shutters ♥

I have often fondly talked about the neighborhood I live in; it’s a neighborhood in which the homes vary in age and style as much as its occupants do. I’m living in a home built in 1929, which is fitting, because we all know (thanks, Suze ♥) that I was born in the wrong place and at the wrong time. One thing I really love about my neighborhood is that all houses are so close together; thus, if I scream, I can be certain someone is going to come running or at least yell "Hey, Jean! What the hell is wrong with you now?!"

When you live in a neighborhood that doesn’t separate you by acres from your next-door neighbors, you do tend to meet a lot of them. You also get to know them well and grow fond of them. I’ve introduced many of them to you in this blog.

You’ve met Susan, who’s the neighbor I occasionally hold a board up for, I accompanied when she had to put her cat, Pumpkin, to sleep, and whose Mom died recently. You met Ellen who’s the neighbor I borrow a cup of sugar from, go to the beach with, and who has been the best “husband” to me the last ten years. And, then you met Barb, who is the neighbor, along with her partner, Rob, and her sister who cares for her elderly parents, Harold and Eileen, in her parent's home.

Harold and Eileen are both in their 80s. Harold is a WWII vet, and he once recounted a story of trying to capture a few German soldiers by telling them in his elementary German what turned out to be “Quit f*cking around, because I have to take a sh*t!” Harold for his years is in good physical and mental shape; however, Eileen has suffered from Alzheimer for the last several years.

I got to know Barb better when her parents needed more care a few years ago. Barb told me that they had tried to put her mother in the nearby nursing home. But, Barb felt the care was inadequate, so they decided that they and an around-the-clock nursing staff would care for their parents in their own home.

Both my parents died relatively quickly. While it was devastating and the time spent caring for them was intense and difficult, I somehow thought what Barb was doing for her parents was far greater when measured on any scale. She told me that it took a financial toll, but this is what they wanted for their parents.

I didn’t get to chat to Barb a lot. Every now and then, she’d stop her car when I was walking Monty and we’d catch up; I’d always ask how her parents were. At one point, during home renovations, our discussion turned to “things left to do,” and I said that I needed to pick shutters. I chose my shutters for Eileen, so she’d always know that she was home.

It’s funny how things work out, because when my cat, Rover, passed her 20th birthday, she slowed down quite a bit and the vet told me that I should consider Rover nearing the end of her ninth life. Oddly, Rover still longed to go out, and when she did, she made her way directly over to Harold and Eileen's house, where they let her in, and as it turned out, cared lovingly for her as she were yet another elderly soul traveling along the geriatric highway looking for a little kindness, peace, love, and tasty food (understanding).

Every day, I let Rover out. She crossed the street, climbed the driveway, and she waited until she was let in. She stayed there for the whole day sleeping under the dining room table. At 3pm, the nurse let her out, and I went over to get her and bring her home, and so it went for many months.

It was uncanny how Rover knew that’s where she belonged. Is love a scent? Because if it was, it wafted through the air in the neighborhood every time I saw Barb wheel Eileen out to the car for a doctor’s appointment, every time I saw Rob mow the lawn and trim the hedges, and every time I saw the door open and Rover walked up the steps and disappeared inside the kitchen door.

After much heartache, I decided that it would be best to put Rover to sleep last November. I went over to tell Barb; she started to cry. When the time came, she went with me, and I loved her for that.

Having already lost my mother, father, and a good friend, I was unfortunately well acquainted with loss. When I saw Barb crying, I knew Rover meant the world to her; however, I couldn’t help but wonder if Rover had meant that much more to her in another way. That is, soon she knew there would be a time when she would have to say good-bye to another lovely woman in her life.

Anyway, every now and then, the town ambulance would come by to get Eileen and bring her to the hospital when there was a serious issue. Wondering if we’d lose her, I always fretted by the window until the EMTs left. Later, when I’d see Barb, I’d always inquire about Eileen.

Last Saturday, the ambulance arrived. I saw them gently wheel Eileen out, and for the first time, I began to cry as I sat by the window. Not seeing Barbara, I couldn't asked; however, I later found out that Eileen had sepsis.

I was working now, so unfortunately, it was harder to catch Barb at the house. I noticed the nurse still coming over, and I thought I’d pop over on the weekend to check on Eileen. This afternoon, I found out that the red shutters won’t be bringing Eileen home this time; she passed away last night.

My heart goes out infinitely beyond the confines of my chest for Barb, Harold, and the rest of her family. I cannot tell you when I’ve ever seen more of a commitment to parents than I witnessed the last several years by watching those children from my window. I know that some might say it was a blessing; however, today, as I sat there at my desk in tears, I couldn’t find the blessing.

Like Barb perhaps with Rover, Eileen’s passing (and the passing of Susan’s mother recently) had taken me somewhere. I had been taken back to a still seemingly very recent and emotionally raw place. I felt so much for the family, yet selfishly, 18 years later, I still felt the sadness of my mother’s loss like it was yesterday.

When I arrived home tonight, I pulled in the driveway, turned off the car, and looked up at my red shutters, and I cried. As I sat there, I knew I had been fortunate to have a wonderful life with many incredible things in it (people, places, and experiences); and upon reflection, perhaps one of the most incredible experiences was the red shutters which opened a world that opened a door and made a home for a feline named Rover and a woman named Eileen. And, tonight, I hoped that Rover had found way her way into Eileen’s lap, and that when they looked at the red shutters, they both knew they were home. ♥

To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die.

~Thomas Campbell