RIP my dear neighbor

I lost another neighbor this week. When we first moved into this neighborhood back some twenty years ago we were the "young'ins". In the last five years we have lost our neighbors to death, a move due to financial reasons, and a move to be closer children. Now we are the elders watching the "young'ins" move into homes we know like the back of our hands. It is a strange feeling, but one I felt I could deal with as long as I had my peeps; two neighbors across from me who also refused to leave.

A couple of weeks before Christmas my neighbor Sid got the news that his melanoma was back and had spread throughout his body. The doctors gave him three months. He didn't quite make that. He died at home early Monday morning. It was not something any of us expected to happen when we gathered in the street to whisper about all of the new neighbors moving into the hood.

I've written about Sid on this blog before here and here. I've mentioned him countless other times. He helped paint the exterior of my house with my next door neighbor (who moved away a year ago), built a doll house that my kids played with for years and that we still own, and he provided countless suggestions and advice on my life. After his wife died five years ago, he spent hours writing novels that I edited. He took a college course in writing at our local college and had me help him with computer skills and rewriting of his essays. He was very crafty and built and created all sorts of furniture, collectibles, and items people couldn't afford to purchase. He repaired a rocking chair that my mother had and couldn't find anyone to help her fix. He was always willing to lend a hand to any neighbor who needed it, and he always had the tools to do the job.

He was a retired police officer from Philadelphia, had an arsenal in his house, and was always the first person I told my kids to run to if they had trouble when they were at home alone. He had a huge train collection that he brought out at Christmas time, and he always invited all of the kids to come over to see his display. He never did anything halfheartedly, but was a perfectionist and it showed.

He came across as gruff, but deep down he was a softy. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was not afraid to show his emotions. Many times he broke down and cried while talking about his wife's death and the loneliness he felt without her. He loved her more then any man has loved a woman, but he also had more to give and had found a companion who was with him at the end. 

I last talked to him two weeks ago after hospice had taken over. It was a brief conversation, but I got to tell him I loved him. And I did. I'll miss seeing him outside messing around in his garage. I'll miss sitting in the back of his truck, our feet dangling, chatting about anything and everything. I'll miss his humor, his craziness, his funny emails, and even his smoking because many times the smell of his cigars would come through my windows and make me think of my dad. Now when I smell that I'll think of him too.

Good bye Sid. Thanks for the memories. May you and Sharon find each other in the afterlife and live happily. You won't be forgotten here in the neighborhood. Your absence will just be another hole in all of our hearts as we watch the "young'ins" from our rockers on our porches.