Our neighbor Georgette died last night, not more than 20 hours ago.
Had I done something a week and 20 hours earlier, perhaps I’d have some closure for her somewhat sudden passing. Bob and his late wife Georgette were our neighbors to the left. They spent this past Thanksgiving with Jen and Emerita and me.
She was the neighbor who knocked on our door the second day after we landed and extended a plate of homemade cookies. Her move stamped a nice impression into whatever region of the brain that stores your best memories.
Georgette’s death on March 5 falls 10 years to the day that beloved Methuen High Principal Arthur Nicholson died in 2016. I spoke with Mr. Nick by phone as he put up his best against aggressive pancreatic cancer from the hospital bed.
What I remember most about the phone call was Mr. Nick’s gratitude for all the well wishes, memories and lump-in-the-throat posts that flooded the MethuenLife Facebook page. He was monitoring the page during his final days and found comfort in hearing from hundreds of students, colleagues and friends. Posts increased after he passed, when Mr. Nick could no longer see them.
I read the posts with sadness, thinking, “Damn, Mr. Nick would have loved to hear this. Why didn’t X tell him this years earlier?
It occurred to me then, and increasingly more so since, that we humans save all our best praise, encouragement and kind words for post mortem. After the intended recipient dies and can no longer appreciate those words.
One night after an inspirational lager or two, I was struck with a fascinating idea: living obituaries. It’s quite simple, actually.
Instead of holding back all the things you’d jot down in a Hallmark condolence card or Facebook post, why not tell him or her when they’re alive? Yes, saying something heartfelt to a family member or friend is unorthodox as hell.
It feels strange. But I’m a strange guy who can handle the unusual.
My dad died at 49, so I won’t pretend we all live to a hundred and have countless opportunities to brighten a day. Accordingly, I contacted the first wave of friends and explained to them why the world is a better place with them in it.
Retired Methuen Fire Dept. Lt. Jim Garrity – Jim and I have been friends since we were teen colleagues at the Pleasant Valley Street Market Basket. Like many of us, Jim grew larger and jollier. I swear that dude could pass for Santa Claus himself. He was the booming vocalist in several rock bands since the roaring ’80s. He’s the Harley-riding voice of the local national anthem and “Danny Boy” and a dozen others that yield shivers and tears, often simultaneously. Jim’s passion as a firefighter and EMT were front and center right up until he retired last year. I acknowledged that when a blazing home had flames shooting from every window, the one guy you can rely to kick your door down, find you and carry you out safely is Jim Garrity. I still say my Mustang was quicker than his Nova, but that’s a race for another day.
Retired Eagle-Tribune columnist Kathie Neff Ragsdale – MethuenLife Managing Editor Melissa Fili and I can brag that we worked with one of the best writers anywhere. A few times a week, Kathie wrote meaningful columns about people of the Merrimack Valley and her life experiences – including a tear-jerker about the death of her husband. Humble and confident, Kathie provided popular columns that brought smiles, tears and inspiration to thousands. She made me want to be a better writer.
The late Wirtshaus Restaurant owner Ed Miller – One day a couple months back, I called Ed and thanked him. For being Ed Miller. His role as a restaurant owner, Zoning Board member, German beer expert and friend earned him a call. When you chatted with Ed, you knew he was really listening and asking questions because he cared. When I praised him for all he’s been, Ed bashfully changed the subject and inquired about my family. “You stay healthy, my friend,” were my last words to Ed, who passed away a few weeks later. Hope he’s pouring out a foamy Tucher wherever he is.
On deck: Guitar Garage owner Jack Galvin – They say your bestest friends are the ones who you wake up next to, hungover, in a police holding cell. Then laugh about whatever the hell you did the night before that got you arrested and placed in a holding cell. No apologies, just loyalty. Jack is that guy. If you recall, three or four years ago Jack won a million dollars in the lottery and promptly split it with his friend who was down on his luck and pitched a $20 to Jack as partial payment for Jack’s generosity. I’ve seen him halt a conversation suddenly to take phone calls from sons Joey and Jack, then end each call reminding them, “Love you,” regardless of how busy the shop is. Good guys make good dads. High-value traits honesty and generosity are running neck and neck.
Back to our neighbor Georgette, who was an accomplished piano player, teacher and former president of the Michigan Music Association. Bob texted to say his wife won’t make it through the night. The next text said she died 30 minutes ago.
I replied with something I wish I had shared weeks back: “In my profession, one meets a lot of people. Your wife was the classiest woman I ever met. Not even a close 2nd…”
He appreciated the note.
Tell someone important something nice. Don’t save it for a Facebook post or wake.
Your words may not add quantity to their years, but I promise they bring quality.
