October 11, 2007

• A special life gone…

  My brother John and I learned yesterday that a very old man had died.  Tears immediately filled my eyes and a sense of loss overwhelmed me.  Mr. James M. was a very rare, special man.   He was a simple man.  Hard working.  A farmer who loved and studied the land.  Shrewd and wise in his business dealings. 

  His farm land adjoined our families little 1 acre plot of land in the small town we grew up in.  He was in our lives from the time we were born.  From letting the boys roam his farm as they grew up, letting us pasture our horses in his pasture a season or two, to generously giving us gifts from his seemingly always bountiful garden. He unfailingly inquired after our health, progress with school, and what we had going on in our lives when he would see us out in the yard.

  He was a rarity in our tiny town.  In a place where people lived and breathed gossip he seemed immune.  The worst thing I can ever remember him saying about anyone was “They was raised different I guess.”

  His wife died several years ago.  I don’t remember for sure how long they had been married but think it was safely over the 50 year mark.   In the midst of his grief he still conducted himself with a dignity although we could see how difficult it was for him to piece his life back together with her gone.  I remember one thing from this time that has stayed with me over the years.  He had an ancient, literally falling apart house on his property.  The home had been abandoned for many years.  It was not far from the property line.  I was out walking in the yard one day and saw him standing there looking at the overgrown house with it’s broken windows.  There in the old, threadbare coat he always wore he cried.  He was a tall, big, strong man.  Working a full day of farm work into his eighties.  But he sobbed like a child.  I quickly walked away hoping he did not notice me as he mourned.

  It is difficult to even attempt to put into words what he meant to me.  A part of my childhood, a pillar of the community.  A man of conscience.  A man of patience and wisdom.   The best neighbor anybody could ever wish for.

  He never met Noelle.  That saddens me.  I know he would have enjoyed her.  Before I married and moved away he remembered fondly memories of when his Grandaughter and I were both small, and how it was for him to believe that we were grown up and getting married.   His Grandchildren were his passion.  He would beam with pride as he talked of each one.  The grades they made, their accomplishments in sports or academic achievements.

  The world has lost a treasure.  He is mourned by all who knew him.

  John is attending the funeral tomorrow.  I wish I could be there.  Just to say goodbye to him and to attempt to tell his family how much he was appreciated.  I’m sure they know though.  They are his living legacy.  A testament to the man that he was.

  • 12:13 am
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