troy was here

My neighbor died the other night.

Her name was Jackie and she was 89 years old. She had her first stroke close to two years ago and recovered only partially, then a few months ago she had another that put her in the hospital permanently. She was the subject of this poem I wrote.

We were neighbors for 10 years …initially with her husband (who died about 8 years ago) and her daughter, who is still here. She was always kind to me, very energetic as well as upbeat and positive. She’d hop on the bus to get around, and volunteer at a nursing home for the elderly – this she did in her mid-80′s. I remember one day she missed her bus and I had to give her a lift …so she slipped into my Storm (little yellow sports car) and away we went. I had a hard time getting in and out of that thing …but she managed – I felt bad about having to give her a ride in it, but she said she liked it. It was a nice ‘banana car’. I also remember her and her husband coming out to one of my gigs a while back. It was on the Edmonton Queen (riverboat) and she said they really enjoyed the music.

I remember her giving me a ‘hard time’ about all the rehearsals and late night parties I might have had …only because I hadn’t invited her over. She would always say “I’ll bring some hootch!” …and I had to laugh. I’d always ask her if we were too loud and she’d always say no. She’d (with her daughter) have BBQ’s in their yard and invite me over all the time. She’d make us cakes and cookies, and put on icing topped with either smarties or rosebuds. She’d always make her cakes in two layers, and the middle section always had either strawberry or raspberry jam packed in it. With the leftover batter she’d make us cookies. Little ‘cake cookies’ I called them. They’d be decorated the same way. When she wanted to give us something she’d always phone and say “Meet me at the fence” …then I’d try to get over to her door before she had to actually come outside.

She used to park cars in her yard (as we live close to the baseball diamond) and she’d be the king of the alley – marching to the main road with a little sign she held up saying “parking – $3″. She’d do this in the heat and the rain. She wouldn’t quit until she had her 6 car quota, and then helped us get in anything else we needed for our yard. I remember her daughter coming to me on a miserable rainy day and saying “Mom wants to park cars today – I told her she’s nuts but she’s going out there anyway.” …and you’d watch a small old figure in a raincoat slowly make its way to the backyard. She used to have garage sales but then she wouldn’t sell anything. She had a habit of collecting/saving everything – and you really had to force her to give something up. She always had a garden, and always inspected the work her daughter was doing in it. She always had a story about something …about the government, the city, people she knew or her ‘good for nothing husband’. She had a cat that she loved. When it was young it was fat and lazy, but when it got older it became cute and adorable. She’d always sent us cards at Christmas with money in them …and she’d always write “Don’t ever move!” on the inside.

We talked about anything …and ‘whenever’ it seemed as well. If one of us was just getting in or about to leave, we’d always find a little extra time to catch up on what was going on in our lives. Sometimes she’d spend a lot of days in her house during winter and wouldn’t get out as much as she’d like – and that was when she’s invite me over. In the summer she’d bring over clothes-pins when she saw that stuff was blowing off our line. She’d always make fun of my ‘dandelion garden’ and rib me about how my garden keeps blowing into her yard.

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Her death was a physical act …and those who knew her will take and carry on her mannerisms, her idiosyncrasies, her originality and character. We’ll act in the way she might have acted, doing what we felt was the way she might have wanted something done or handled. We’ll take all the good she had and steal it to ourselves. We’ll think of her when we don’t expect to, and at certain times we’ll find something ‘missing’ in our lives …and then fondly remember what was there.

Your words and actions define you and your way of living is your legacy – your body will fade, so use it to get done what you feel you have to do …you’ll only notice the years passing by if you’re standing around watching them.