Let me have this
I went to a funeral today, a funeral for an 85 year old man I had only met three times, my cousin Diane's father-in-law. He had a rather pronounced hearing loss, so conversation involved quite a bit of shouting, but once you had shouted, he answered you in a perfectly clear, humourous voice. The guy was the real deal, and an absolute scream. The last time I saw him was Boxing Day, at a post-Christmas party. For whatever reason, we had all donned Mardi Gras beads, and he went right along with it, wearing ropes of purple, gold, and green.
His name was Joe. Of course it was.
Joe was awfully attached to his farm, and the peace and quiet it afforded. He was happiest outdoors, be it hunting, gathering berries, gardening, or simply walking alone in the woods. About a year ago, a vision problem forced him to give up his driver's licence. Diane and her husband Rick, who live here in town, did the only thing they could think of: they bought the house next to theirs, to allow Joe his own independence and freedom, but also allow them to keep an eye on him.
His response? "I'm too young for that."
For a year, Joe would spend a few days at the house here in town before getting grumpy, and they would drive him back to the farm. Then, after a few days of worrying about him, they would go to the farm and bring him back. This is called love.
I'm still not sure what had been wrong with his eyesight, but he had it corrected, and last week he got his driver's licence back. He immediately decided it was time to high tail it back to the farm. He had been forcing hyacinth blooms in his house here in town, and loaded them it to the car a few days ago so that he could enjoy their sunshiny blooms at the farm....after all, that was where he lived.
He spent a great day in the farm, tending to the little things that needed to be done. He placed the purple hyacinths on the kitchen table, then went out to split and stack a cord of wood. When he was done, he went in to the house for a nice cup of tea, undoubtedly admiring his winter flowers. Then, as was his wont, he took a little nap on the chesterfield.
And never woke.
Dear Lord, when it is my turn, let me have this.
His name was Joe. Of course it was.
Joe was awfully attached to his farm, and the peace and quiet it afforded. He was happiest outdoors, be it hunting, gathering berries, gardening, or simply walking alone in the woods. About a year ago, a vision problem forced him to give up his driver's licence. Diane and her husband Rick, who live here in town, did the only thing they could think of: they bought the house next to theirs, to allow Joe his own independence and freedom, but also allow them to keep an eye on him.
His response? "I'm too young for that."
For a year, Joe would spend a few days at the house here in town before getting grumpy, and they would drive him back to the farm. Then, after a few days of worrying about him, they would go to the farm and bring him back. This is called love.
I'm still not sure what had been wrong with his eyesight, but he had it corrected, and last week he got his driver's licence back. He immediately decided it was time to high tail it back to the farm. He had been forcing hyacinth blooms in his house here in town, and loaded them it to the car a few days ago so that he could enjoy their sunshiny blooms at the farm....after all, that was where he lived.
He spent a great day in the farm, tending to the little things that needed to be done. He placed the purple hyacinths on the kitchen table, then went out to split and stack a cord of wood. When he was done, he went in to the house for a nice cup of tea, undoubtedly admiring his winter flowers. Then, as was his wont, he took a little nap on the chesterfield.
And never woke.
Dear Lord, when it is my turn, let me have this.
posted by Jenn at
8:38 p.m.
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