"IT TOLLS FOR THEE!"

Writing about the passing (death) of other humans, a wise
old bard wrote, "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee."

Death is so certain and sudden, yet most of us are totally
uprepared for its arrival.  There's just something about its
suddenness, sometimes, that catches us offguard, and leaves
us with few, if any, words to express our emotions.

Such is the case with a long-time neighbor and friend who we
lost recently.  Dave was my next-door neighbor for over 16
years, until we moved last December.  I could stand at the
edge of my property and throw a stone lefthanded and hit
his house with it, if I had wanted to.

Over the course of time Dave and I had may interactions
and conversations, from work to cars to motorcycles to
"girlfriends" to our health, etc.

Once, right after one of my "life crises", I was attempting to
mow my lawn, and must have appeared to be struggling, as
Dave drove his lawn tractor across the street and helped me
to finish the job.  I don't remember if it was after my heart
attack or my appendectomy, but I appreciated his "neigh-

borliness" a lot!

Another time, when I was tackling the task of removing

a huge plot of rather large weeds that had become tree-like,

Dave was right there with an electric saw and other tools,

as well as himself to help make the task shorter and less

stressful. 

I wonder if I was a good neighbor?

Sometimes Dave and I would talk just to talk.  Both being single

for much of our friendship, I would josh with him about
getting a lady friend and "settling down", and he would do
the same right back at me.  We laughed a lot together.

Dave was only 58 when his COPD did him in.  I didn't even

know he was having problems.  I would tour the old
neighborhood usually on Sundays when we would go
back for church, and often stop and chat with him, as
usual and as in old times, about everything and nothing.

He looked good in the casket.  I was in shock.  I still am.
You know how you think some people will "always be
there"?  I did.  Dave wasn't.

Not much sense in driving through the old neighborhood
now, except maybe to catch Tom or Joe or Len just

standing around.  We didn't have as much "in common"

as Dave and I did.  And still do.  Even though I'm now
an hour's drive away, and return to town almost every

week, I miss my friend, Dave.  Probably always will.

I wonder if anyone will feel or think or write these kinds

of words about me when it's "my turn"?

"Every man's death diminishes me!" is another line of
old, which is still appropo.  It's hard to think that Dave

is no longer with us.  The old neighborhood will never

be the same.  The town will never be the same.  I will
never be the same.

REST IN PEACE, FRIEND DAVE, I trust you're with God!