Oct. 05, 2003 - 19:47 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Who Has Left

On the melancholy side tonight. Heather and I made our last trip to her brother's old house. His son and daughter have the house about ready to sell, now they won't be back there again, the real estate folks will handle things from here on.

They had dug up the grape vines that Heather's brother started from the grapvines from their Dad's house. We got one of the big Concord grape vines for our oldest son to plant in his yard. Tradition you know.

Heather's brother's daughter lives in northern Wyoming and won't be coming to Denver as often anymore. So this afternoon was family visiting time, the brother and sister were both there and the wife of the sister's son. Several of the neighbors came by and visited for a while as well.

The interior of the house was quite familiar, not much change except for the empty spots that once pictures on the wall occupied and the shelves empty of books and things like that not being in their regular places. The things that make the house a place where people live, were gone, empty floors and empty doors.

I couldn't help but fall into a somber mood. Remembering the visits we made to him in his last years after his wife died. Pixie, his grandson's dog who was there with him for a long time, until his grandson married and moved away. Pixie and I were fast friends. Thinking about the times we took him to Walmart in his neighborhood for birdseed and other things, to his doctors, up to the supermarket for groceries and prescriptions and to the fast food places nearby that he liked to visit.

Then in warm weather, he sitting in his swing outdoors at the back of his house, Heather and I on comfortable chairs facing him. Usually I would fill the feeder with birdseed for him -- it was a tradition with him to carry on the bird feeding in memory of his wife. His wife was the one who instigated the whole thing. That was on the route of all the birds, pigeons from off the power lines and the super small birds, sparrows and all who lived in the high rise apartments in the towering evergreen tree just east of the feeder. Once the feeder was filled, rush hour began. Funny it was as birds would be gobbling their birdseed and Whoosh they would take flight suddenly and the next batch would move in to eat. Of course when the pigeons came down from the wires to eat the little ones made themselves scarce. We used to laugh at the antics of the pigeons on the roof of the shed next door which overlooked their dining area.

The hours we had of desultory conversation between the three of us was a pleasant way to pass the time.

His house is up for sale and the spirits have left, I doubt if Heather and I will ever be in that block again.

Once three families of us lived within a mile or less of each other. All the kids grew up, married and moved away. Heather's younger sister was one of the trio, died this long time ago. Her brother just recently. Heather and I had left the neighborhood long ago. Gives me the feeling of emptiness, that. Memories of the times when our kids were growing up, going to the same schools together parties and picnics in common. The every Sunday gatherings for dinner at Grandma's house. Getting a little older each year.

We took the Concord grape vine across town to oldest son's house and visited with he and his wife for a time. Her father is in Veteran's Hospital in the nursing home wing with terminal cancer and not doing too well.

The feeling of transient mortality all too evident to this old man this evening. Those we loved, respected and looked up to are dwindling. Makes us cling to our kids and grand kids and great grands all the more. It is a hard and fast tradition among us all that our family love each other to the utmost. When the utmost has been reached, then I guess the love is transferred to those still living, so I think our kids have a load of love to pass on, no ?

But familiar faces, familiar places and relatives with graces fade into the past and grow dim after a time, yet are summoned back now and again to once more complete the circle.

That brought the memory of Heather's brother's wife to mind. The last years the four of us would exchange visits, one week at their house and the next at our apartment. Then her arthritis got so bad that her husband would bring her over here. The four of us had some grand times visiting and eating goodies with our coffee. When the weather was nice he and I would sit out on our first floor balcony and solve the problems of the world -- or at least gripe about them.

The melancholy will pass this night and tomorrow is another day to live and love, but it was sad visiting the home of someone Who Has Left . . . . . . . . . .

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