Frank

A vague sense of discontent haunted me today.  It followed me around as I did chores and ran errands.  It was unshakeable. 

My long-time neighbor, Frank, has sold his home.  He has been considering a move for some time.   He is 86.  He has maintained his home and yard, on his own, since his wife's death several years ago.  See my post of last year, Frank's Front Porch Visit to learn more about my friend and neighbor.  He is moving to a new home, a condominium about 20 minutes away.  He has been packing and moving, little by little. Yesterday, a large yellow truck pulled into his driveway and over the course of many hours, Frank's belongings were loaded onto the truck.  I did not see the truck nor Frank leave. 

This morning, there was no activity at Frank's home.  I began to believe Frank had slipped away from me yesterday.  I hadn't said "Good-bye", though we have all talked regularly as he made plans to move. Better Half helped Frank with his home sale and new home purchase.  It did not seem possible that my friend of 28 years could be gone, with nary a word.

Late this afternoon, several cars pulled up into Frank's driveway.  Out of them poured people I did not know.  Among them were two young girls, who began to play in the yard, tiny dog in tow.  The older persons gathered on the front walk and made their way into the house.  The girls cavorted around the yard and began to do cartwheels. Their hair gleamed in the late afternoon sunshine.  It was a happy sight.  My new neighbors had arrived.  I was sure Frank had gone.

What a conflicting medley of emotions!  While I was sad to see Frank sell his home, I knew that the house had grown to be too much for him to care for, and I am sure it reminded him daily of his wife, Connie.   I was happy for him to be in a new, one-story home, requiring little in the way of maintenance.   I know, reasonably, this is a good move.  However, emotionally, selfishly, I want to keep Frank close by, to keep things as they are.

On the other hand, there was a certain joy in watching children play in the yard, in watching our new neighbors take their family and friends into the house that will become their new home.

When Better Half came home from work, I expressed my fear that Frank had somehow managed to get away without a "Good-Bye".  Better Half assured me that Frank had not completed his move and would be around to say "Good-Bye.  Yet, even Better Half had his doubts as he watched the girls play on the lawn.

Just as we finished dinner, the doorbell did a quick series of "Ding-Dongs".  That specific series of "Ding-Dongs" belongs only to Frank.  Off we rush to the door.  It is Frank.  He has returned for another load of belongings.  He settles in for a visit to tell us how he is progressing.  He slept, like a baby, in his new home, last night.  He continues to pack, and move, box by box.  He turned down our offers of help, preferring to go through each closet and cabinet, taking with him only those things he knows he will need. 

I sent him packing, as the sunlight faded, with some lasagna and Easter sugar cookies.  He was tired and there were boxes to be unloaded and organized in his new home.

As we stood outside, he looked at Better Half and me, and told us he hoped we wouldn't mind if he told us he loved us.  I hugged my dear friend, Frank, doing my best to hold back the tears that had threatened to overtake me today, while Better Half stood by the side.  I told him I loved him.  We made tentative plans for a dinner with the boys, their girls and baby granddaughter.  He said he would like that.  I will like that.  I rushed into the house, while Better Half watched him drive away, as my tears could not be held back any longer.

Yes, I know life will go on.  I will see Frank again.  I will get to know the neighbors and their girls.  Change is inevitable.  Yet, it is hard.

I love you, Frank.  Take care.