No, this is not a rant. It is not even a complaint. It is mostly an expression of grief, which is not something that this joke cracking smart ass handles well.
You see, when you deal with the same people six days a week for well over six years, you are bound to form some sort of bond with them. I serve over 450 families on my relatively small rural route. Many of them have come and gone, while others are there for the long haul, but no matter, these people have all become a sort of extended family for me. That is a damned big extended family!
Most of my customers, at some time or another, come out to talk to me. During theae conversations, I learn much about their lives, sometimes more than I really want to know! I listen, all the same. Many of these people are older folks who can no longer get out much. I may very well be the only person that they have to talk to. I enjoy being a part of these folk's lives and I believe that in most cases the feeling is reciprocated. It is not unusual for me to be greeted by one of my customers with a big hug when I am met while off duty! I do not mind, because underneath my cynical, wisecracking exterior lies a very affectionate person.
Needless to say, I miss many of the families who have moved away over the years. I wonder what they are doing now, how their children have grown, are they happy? But this is not the worst part. The worst and most painful part of my job is when one of my extended family dies. This is what I am having difficulty dealing with right now.
There is an older couple on my route, about the same age as my parents, who have lived there since I first learned the route as a sub over fifteen years ago. The wife has been plagued by many serious illnesses over the years but has always maintained a pleasant and cheerful attitude. She is truly a joy to know.
Her husband has always cared for her with a little help from some visiting nurses. It is because of the visiting nurses that I got to know him. These ladies seem to think that people have mailboxes to save their parking spaces for them! When the nurses would block his box, "Whitey", as he was called, would always come out to fetch his mail so that I would not have to struggle to put it in the box. We had many conversations when this happened. We talked about many things, his wife's health, the weather, his latest woodworking project...
Whitey liked to make things. His lawn is littered with his creations. He even made a special mailbox that looks like a mail truck. When he wasn't making things, he was always doing something, mowing the lawn, planting a garden or whatever. He was a very special breed of man, one that I don't think that they make any more!
A week ago on Friday, I heard the news that Whitey had suffered a massive heart attack and was in a coma at a local hospital. He was not expected to live. To make matters worse, his wife was in another local hospital, due to be released that day. Now she could not be, since there would be no one at home to care for her. I was deeply troubled by this and prayed that God would grant Whitey a miraculous recovery. For whatever reason, God chose not to grant my request. Whitey passed away on August 6. I wonder who will care for his wife now that he is gone. Will she be able to maintain her good attitude with her beloved spouse departed? I sincerely hope so. She remains in my prayers.
So, death has taken one of my extended family from me. I will miss him terribly. It hurts to think that I will never see him again in this life, not to mention the fact that his death reminded me of the mortality of my "real" family. He was, in fact, a few years younger than my dad.
And so, I leave you with this as a tribute to a very special man...
"I do believe you're still around me
You're still around me all the time
I have no doubt one day in heaven
I will see you again"
Lyrics from Eye To Eye
Written by Klaus Meine.
