Feeling Rather Fragile Today

     A few weeks ago a fellow writer from The Other Side Of Sixty wrote an article called "Copper." It was about an old-timer being moved from his apartment to a home. He could no longer take care of himself. The story was rather poignant and it made you realize that someday, that could be me or you. It was sad but life is what it is. This week that story unfolded right before my eyes and I have to tell you, I'm feeling rather fragile today.

     I moved in here two months ago and got to know my neighbour W. rather quickly. She told me all about the area and the people who live around us. There's the usual lot. A few dirty old men, a couple of nosey old dolls but all in all they are all quite friendly.

     She also told me about the old timer who lives three doors down from me. Apparently, he got quite ill but no one found him for almost a week. He was taken by ambulance to our hospital and no one has seen him since. No one knows if he passed away or was placed in a home.

     Over the past week, the story has come full circle. On Monday someone came by and hauled away his boat. I bet he spent many afternoons quietly fishing and enjoying the nature around him. Later that same day a tow truck pulled up and took the old car. We all thought he had lost his driving rights because of health issues. It does happen sooner or later.

      Thursday a moving truck pulled in and took most of the furniture out. I think that's when it hit home that he wasn't coming back. It was sad to see someone's life packed up by strangers and hauled away. They were there most of the day. I'm assuming they were packing as they were loading.

     Today is Saturday and it's been the worst day. There's an old pick up truck in the driveway and they are here to haul away what's left. As we watch them throw bits and pieces of this man's life into the back to be taken to the dump, we all realize, that could be any one of us. There's an old ragged chair. Was that his favorite, where he sat to read? Boxes of old books that had been collected over the years. Bits and pieces of furniture that are no longer useful. All of it gone. Next week maintenance will come in and clean up and paint and the townhouse will be put on the market for rent. It feels like he's being erased as if he was never here.

      So yes, I'm feeling fragile at the moment. Watching all of this happen makes you realize just how precious life is. We have all of these things we care for and fuss over but they're not worth a thing once we're gone. To the stranger that comes in to clean out the house, it's just another pile of trash. The people in our lives is what we should be fussing over. They are what's important. The things we collect over the years are not who we are.

     We are more than the sum of our things. Our stuff isn't what we'll be remembered for. We'll be remembered for our actions and our words. We'll be remembered for the hugs and kisses we gave. We'll be remembered for the laughter and smiles we shared. We'll be remembered for who we are, not for what we owned.