Remembering Terry

     When I moved in to my new house almost 14 years ago I acquired many new neighbors. One of those was Terry. Terry lived in the house next door, a very red house that turned hot pink in the years after. He had a ratty mid 80s Corvette in the front yard and a bunch of bags of garbage in the back. Terry died a few years ago. Officially to disease but I think he'd lost his will to live.

      On some of my many visits to the 4' chain link fence that enclosed his property he told me of the large Harley he used to own, of the nice boat he used to have, and of his wife who died of cancer. It seemed that in one way or another life had picked off the things he cared about one at a time.

     Then came the day he asked me to work on the Vette. He'd started it one day to warm up and when he came out of the house it had died. We pushed it over to my shop and I ran through all the potential causes. The pain I felt in my stomach was wrenching when I had to go over and tell him the engine had siezed. I knew he didn't have the money to fix it. It seemed like the last thing he had left to claim that he'd been alive.

     In the last number of years he was alive we rarely saw him. Just getting in or out of his truck for work or occasionally taking dogs to park. He didn't even go outside with the dogs anymore. Just opened the door.

     When the family came to clean out the house it was overwhelming. Pizza boxes and garbage stacked to the ceiling. He'd left a path from couch to fridge to bathroom and was sleeping on the couch. His lack of will to live eventually sealed his fate. He became sick and spent some time in the hospital. When released and recovered enough to work again he did so but it was short lived. He got sick again, spent more time in the hospital and again was released to recover at home. This time the recovery would not come.

     Seemingly our whole neighborhood mourned his death. Well, except for the neighbors across from us whose little dog had gone under Terrys fence and become a chew toy for just an instant. And the people around the corner who would walk their 4 or 5 pitbulls down our street. His dog had jumped the fence one day as they were going past. There was a sadness that hung over our partially paved pot hole riddled street. A sadness that still visits from time to time.

     I still think of Terry. I remember many times his meth addicted brother living in the trailer in the back yard would make our lives miserable. I remember the funeral for his dog and the beautiful sign he put up over the grave. I remember times early on of him shooting hoops in his driveway. I remember talks of his wife and how much he had loved her. How much he still loved her and missed her. I remember how he had wanted kids so bad but never had the chance. I remember how much he loved on my kids. I remember you Terry.

     You are treasured and missed Terry, even if you didn't know it when you were living.