On Monday when everyone was enjoying a day by the pool and mourning the end of summer an old man on our street was mourning the loss of his beloved wife of many many years. Police were at the house and then they were gone. No one knew this couple. The house is very run down and overgrown. The cars are old. There are stray rose bushes randomly growing all over. The front door has a hole in the glass. It is not a house I would have approached without reason.
I heard bits and pieces from neighbors that he was foreign and alone. On Monday night I drove past his house around 10 p.m. and saw his silhouette in the hallway. He was just standing there. His wife had died hours earlier and there he stood. Alone. My heart broke for him. I couldn't sleep. I thought of him all night long.
On Tuesday I kept watch to see if any family arrived. It seemed that no one came nor went. I was driving home around 5 p.m. when I saw him pulling his wife's car into the garage. I felt compelled to speak to him. I pulled over and hopped out with the girls. I waited until he was finished and approached him. I introduced myself and told him I was so sorry for his loss. He clutched his heart and said in a very thick accent, "My heart. It is broken." I sobbed. He sobbed. Lilly grabbed his hand and rubbed it saying, "It's going to be ok Grainpaw. You ok. I'm here." He held her hand and kissed it. He told her she was beautiful. I asked him what I could make for him to eat. He explained he had plenty of food so I asked if we could visit him. He said he would really like that.
On Wednesday I took the girls for a walk. Lilly drew the old man a picture and wanted to take it to him. It was a picture of him, sad, and his wife in heaven next to him.
We knocked on his door lightly and he did not answer. Lilly left the picture on his front porch in the mail box. On our way home from walking we saw a police officer at his door. She was holding Lilly's picture (which had my name and phone number on the back). I quickly crossed the street to tell her my daughter drew that for him and that I was just trying to reach out to him since I believed he was all alone. She confirmed that he was alone and the officers that responded to his wife's death said the house was in very bad shape and that they were worried about him. She wanted to reach out to him as well. He did not answer when she knocked and we left promising to continue to check in on him.
Today I was headed to CVS. Poor Ella has bad diarrhea from her antibiotic which has caused a horrible rash. I decided to stop by the old man's house and ask him if I could get him anything from the store. He answered. We chatted briefly on his porch. He didn't want anything but he did begin to talk to me. Eventually he told me to come inside so I got the girls out of the car and we went in for a visit.
It was a powerful hour.
His name is Marc, short for Marcel. His wife was Doreen, short for Theodora. They are from Romania. They did not have children. Marc's accent is very thick and he's a bit hard of hearing but we were still able to communicate. He was a nuclear engineer and his wife was a rosarian. She was a gardener and won many awards and ribbons for her amazing rose bushes. The rose bushes that are now unkempt and over grown that I have admired for years. She loved her roses. He showed me pictures of their home in 1992 and it was amazing. He smiled. I smiled. Lilly smiled and hugged him several times. He told her she was sweet as honey and she giggled.
On our way out Lilly was smelling the roses. He told me to cut her one. I did. She ran up to the porch to this very tall, old man, and said, "Smell it! You haf to smell it!" and he did. Doreen's rose. It smelled delicious. We took it home and Lilly put it in a cup of water.
Marc said we should do lunch one day. I totally agreed.
I heard bits and pieces from neighbors that he was foreign and alone. On Monday night I drove past his house around 10 p.m. and saw his silhouette in the hallway. He was just standing there. His wife had died hours earlier and there he stood. Alone. My heart broke for him. I couldn't sleep. I thought of him all night long.
On Tuesday I kept watch to see if any family arrived. It seemed that no one came nor went. I was driving home around 5 p.m. when I saw him pulling his wife's car into the garage. I felt compelled to speak to him. I pulled over and hopped out with the girls. I waited until he was finished and approached him. I introduced myself and told him I was so sorry for his loss. He clutched his heart and said in a very thick accent, "My heart. It is broken." I sobbed. He sobbed. Lilly grabbed his hand and rubbed it saying, "It's going to be ok Grainpaw. You ok. I'm here." He held her hand and kissed it. He told her she was beautiful. I asked him what I could make for him to eat. He explained he had plenty of food so I asked if we could visit him. He said he would really like that.
On Wednesday I took the girls for a walk. Lilly drew the old man a picture and wanted to take it to him. It was a picture of him, sad, and his wife in heaven next to him.
We knocked on his door lightly and he did not answer. Lilly left the picture on his front porch in the mail box. On our way home from walking we saw a police officer at his door. She was holding Lilly's picture (which had my name and phone number on the back). I quickly crossed the street to tell her my daughter drew that for him and that I was just trying to reach out to him since I believed he was all alone. She confirmed that he was alone and the officers that responded to his wife's death said the house was in very bad shape and that they were worried about him. She wanted to reach out to him as well. He did not answer when she knocked and we left promising to continue to check in on him.Today I was headed to CVS. Poor Ella has bad diarrhea from her antibiotic which has caused a horrible rash. I decided to stop by the old man's house and ask him if I could get him anything from the store. He answered. We chatted briefly on his porch. He didn't want anything but he did begin to talk to me. Eventually he told me to come inside so I got the girls out of the car and we went in for a visit.
It was a powerful hour.
His name is Marc, short for Marcel. His wife was Doreen, short for Theodora. They are from Romania. They did not have children. Marc's accent is very thick and he's a bit hard of hearing but we were still able to communicate. He was a nuclear engineer and his wife was a rosarian. She was a gardener and won many awards and ribbons for her amazing rose bushes. The rose bushes that are now unkempt and over grown that I have admired for years. She loved her roses. He showed me pictures of their home in 1992 and it was amazing. He smiled. I smiled. Lilly smiled and hugged him several times. He told her she was sweet as honey and she giggled.
On our way out Lilly was smelling the roses. He told me to cut her one. I did. She ran up to the porch to this very tall, old man, and said, "Smell it! You haf to smell it!" and he did. Doreen's rose. It smelled delicious. We took it home and Lilly put it in a cup of water.
Marc said we should do lunch one day. I totally agreed.
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