Next door, my neighbor is dying, and might be dead, since there are no longer many cars out front, though I haven't seen a hearse. His family vigiled all weekend, with the aid of a visiting priest and, I believe, hospice. His son-in-law said it had been a rough few months and I had seen the ambulance come at least once. He's in his nineties, I think,and has lived in that house more than half that time, since the late 1940s-early 1950s. We have only spoken once or twice, as he was hard of hearing, but he often tootled around his garden and did minor house repairs, such as annually painting the porch.
At the same time, the house of his next door neighbor, with whom we had been friends, has finally gone up for sale, after being in the family since around 1930. It's where she grew up and then raised her own kids, telling us about the peach orchards and fox holes, foundry and "new developments." She had suffered much poor health recently and moved to be with her son several months ago, though she swore she would never leave. It would probably please her that she lived longer than her neighbor, even if she moved and he didn't--she said that they hated each other and sometimes even called the cops on each other, though they had mellowed some more recently.
End of an era . . . .may the families be comforted.
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