Last night, the kids and I pulled into the driveway from an evening playground run. This has been our custom for as long as I can remember. Most of our neighbors have dogs and they take them for their evening walk past our house on a regular basis. It's almost like clockwork.
I pulled in and let the kids go inside while I stayed in the car to catch my breath before clocking in to the bedtime shift of struggly solo parenting. I saw our neighbor, Matt, walking his two dogs, but then saw him cross in front of the van and come toward me.
"I know we usually don't talk, but we're moving and I wanted to know if you guys could use an extra long twin bed," he said. I explained to him that we had more beds than kids in our house which was a blessing and that we were getting ready to move also , this summer. I inquired more about his move as he began to tell me that he and his wife had raised their son, and would now be moving to some acres they'd bought in Georgia. After giving him my card and agreeing to help find someone who may be interested in the furniture, I went into my house and began to cry uncontrollably.
My kids ran up to me and started giving me endless hugs. Finally they asked, "what's wrong mom? What happened." I was taken aback by my own response. I yelled out, "Matt is moving away." The kids were confused as to why I cared this much about a man I'd never spoken with. But, this neighbor was the very first perso that Patrick met and interacted with when we moved here in 2021. He took the kids for a walk and met Matt and his two dogs. For the rest of the months that he was on this earth, he would acknowledge Matt and his dogs. Matt's connection to Patrick was something that I had no idea would hit me the way it did. Another thing, that is close to Patrick, that ties Patrick to us is going away. That unexpected trigger almost broke me. Grief is like that. You really never know.
I decided to take this opportunity after my meltdown last night to gush about our amazing neighbors. This is our first time living in a neighborhood as opposed to a subdivision. Since day one, these have been the finest and most helpful people we've come to know. When Patrick was in the hospital, immediately after his surgery, we could come home to snacks, and drinks on our doorsteps. People would constantly check in. When my sister told my neighbors across the street that he had passed, they stood there crying and consoling each other. They couldn't believe it. "I spoke to him one time. One time was all it took. He changed my life." That was the sentiment of many. We had only been here about four months before Patrick's passing. He made it a point to walk around the entire cul-de-sac to introduce himself and our family to the neighbors. He spent his life as an outreach pastor, corporate trainer, and established salesman. So, meeting people where they were, was his speciality.
In the days leading up to and after the celebration of life, I would come home to dinners, diapers, wipes, trash bags, groceries, drinks, etc. Every day for a long while, the neighbors took care of us. I remember on Christmas day, one of our neighbors walked over first thing in the morning with flowers for me and a kind note. She was one of many. On Christmas morning, people were leaving their families to come console ours. I'm getting teary eyed typing this, because that level of beauty in humanity was something I so desperately needed.
Several neighbors came over and brought additional chairs for my family to use and they visited. Another neighbor volunteered to take my kid to volleyball practice when I was simply overwhelmed with grief and anxiety and couldn't bring myself to drive. When Patrick was here, he would always fix the blinds. I could never do it and I would get very anxious and frustrated. When I didn't get to bring him home from the hospital, I realized that I was stuck with no one to help with the blinds. One of my neighbors and her husband came over and adjusted them all for me and told me they'd be over to do it as often as I needed it.
There are so many stories of the beautiful people in this neighborhood showing up for me ,and perhaps it's the fact that we'll have to be leaving soon that I'm finally able to share these memories. After one very tough birthday, I had taken the kids on a quick overnight trip to Orlando. This was the first boy to celebrate a birthday without their Dad, and it was HEAVY. I cried almost the whole way home. I knew that I needed to get gas but I was afraid that if I stopped, I wouldn't get back started and we'd be stuck in whatever town we were in. So I made it all the way back home but the tank was on E. When I started the car later that afternoon to take Christian to basketball practice, of course it wouldn't crank. One of my neighbors walked down to me, in the rain, and helped me and Christian to pour gas from our gas can into the tank. We were all wet from the rain and gas was leaking everywhere, as it was a new gas can that Patrick got us and I wasn't familiar with how to use it. She didn't care. She stayed there to help and even called to check on me to make sure I made it to the gas station.
These stories ,these neighbors, this neighborhood will always have a special place in my heart. Although I'm ready to move, I'm also anxious. Leaving what has felt like a caring community to an unknown place without Patrick's seems daunting. Everything is so bittersweet. I'll never forget their kindness, and I'll always be inclined and inspired by them to pay it forward.
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