When my husband and I got married and bought our first house we moved into a neighborhood that was built in the 1950s. Across the street from us was an elderly couple, Rich and Dolores, who were the original owners of their house and who rarely left their home. We were young and self-absorbed and rarely visited, but on Halloween when our daughter Nora was one year old, we saw their porch light was on and noticed that no kids had visited. I quickly dressed Nora up as a ladybug and took her trick-or-treating straight to their house.
Rich and Dolores were delighted to see us and welcomed us in. On that visit I learned that Dolores had ALS and was confined to the living room couch all day. Rich was her happy caretaker. They spent their days together; he in his arm chair, she on the couch, talking and watching TV. They shared memories of their two daughters and raising their family together. They shared the history of the families on the street. They lamented the fact that no children seemed to be on the street anymore.
The evening was a pleasant surprise. I had finally taken a moment to be neighborly and found wonderful neighbors.
When Dolores passed away in 2016 they had been married for 65 years. Shortly thereafter Rich got a yellow labrador puppy, Lady, for companionship. Rich still rarely left home and Lady sat or laid loyally at his side as he sat in his armchair all day. Meals on Wheels would deliver him food and once a month he would drive his car to the food bank.
I started making it a point to visit him more often and to find neighborly things to do for him – like bring in his mail on a rainy day, shovel his driveway when it snowed, and visit him to play with Lady and have a chat. Rich loved talking and telling stories. I was happy to listen.
We formed a friendship. He would call to let me know I might have left my car lights on. He would generously offer me items from his food bank pick-up. I would make a dinner or a dessert and take him some. No matter what I made he always claimed it was one of his favorite things.
Over time his memory wasn’t as sharp and his short-term memory suffered. He continued to live alone with Lady. Conversations were repetitive. But one thing never wavered – he loved his Lady. One day, when he was 92, he broke down into tears and pleaded for me to take in Lady should anything ever happen to him. I was unsure, but I said “yes”. He was relieved.
One night, a few years later and a few days after Christmas, Ryan and I were sitting at home and I got a call from his daughter asking for help. Rich had fallen and couldn’t get up. Ryan immediately went over to help, but discovered that Rich’s injury was too bad. An ambulance came and took Rich to the hospital; he had broken his hip. As I watched from my window and saw the ambulance drive away I also saw Ryan come down the hill with Lady.
The next day his daughter told me that the only thing Rich kept worrying about as he recovered in the hospital was, “Where is my Lady?” He’d be told she was with us and he would be relieved. A few minutes later he would ask again and be relieved again.
We prayed that Rich would recover and that he could come back home to his Lady. But we also knew that a 96 year old with a broken hip probably wasn’t going to be able to go back to living on his own. We continued to care for Lady as Rich went to a rehab facility and then to live with one of his daughters.
A few weeks later his daughter asked us if we would be able to keep Lady forever. We were unsure. We figured we would wait and see and pray on it as Rich continued to recover.
Rich missed his Lady terribly. One day we were able to coordinate a visit and bring Lady to see Rich. I didn’t know at that time it would be the last time for the two of them to be together and the last time I would ever see Rich. Lady happily sat on his feet like she always did and he laughed and cried and petted her. On repeat, Rich would say, “She’s such a good dog. You’re my Lady.” as they sat together. It was gut-and-heart-wrenching to have to tell him that I needed to go and I had to take Lady with me. Everyone cried, but especially Rich.
About a month later Rich passed away. When I visited the funeral home everyone already knew that I was the neighbor with Lady. While they expressed their appreciation I was still unsure of it all, but the one thing I was sure of was I needed to take Lady to see him one more time. The funeral home was just down the street from my house so on the day of his funeral I stood outside with Lady in the light rain. As the pallbearers rolled Rich out of the funeral home, Lady sat by my side. As they were about to place Rich in the car, Lady let out a solitary bark. People might say it was a coincidence, but I believe it was a simple salute and one last goodbye to the man she knew had loved her so much.
These days Lady is still adjusting to life in our active family home and we are still adjusting to having Lady as a part of our family. She is still anxious when my three kids play too loudly or too quickly, but she withstands their different ways of showing love. When I sit down, Lady always comes to me and sits on my feet just like she used to do with Rich.
Sometimes I sit and ponder what life will be like when Ryan and I reach old age and how much we might be like Rich and Dolores. I hope and pray that when that day comes I’ll have neighbors who take a moment to notice that our porch light is on. And when they finally take a moment to be neighborly I hope that they will be pleasantly surprised.
