Sadness and loss

My neighbor has died.

I found out this morning, around midnight, from my other neighbor.

She was not ill, but she had had an accident a few months ago that required a tracheotomy. I brought groceries and jokes to her when she told me what had happened.

I had not seen her for a bit, but there were so many people—her family—coming and going I figured she was being well taken care of. With the holidays, everybody got busy, and their house traffic ramped up, so I thought I’d do a casual swing-by when things settled. That drop by was to happen this weekend, during the three-day break in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. She had strong opinions about how our country was changing, and I was gearing up for the hilarious profanity-laden exchange we would most certainly have. I had new curse word combinations I wanted to try.

And then I got the text.

I am sad, bewildered, upset. There’s nothing I can say to the family that will make them feel better. There’s nothing I can do that will bring her back. When the sun rises, and for several sunrises in the future, I will do my best to relieve some of the burden and stress from the family.

At the moment, though, Job One is to sit with these feelings. It is quiet in my house, on the street, in the living room…and somehow that seems wrong even though it’s 3:30 in the morning.

I’m glad I broke bread with her. I’m delighted to have heard her sing. The BBQ ribs she made that one time…what?!? Y’all missed out on some good eats. Let’s not forget her guard Shih Tzu, Lexi the Dog, the first pet I met when I moved in, who decided I was the bonus parent, so I had to make sure I had dog treats at the ready at all times. (I had dog treats before I bought groceries for myself when I moved in). I used to could hear her laughter down the block—deep, rich, full-bodied. Now…

Michelle, your memory will always be a blessing.