 Rogelio, the sweet patriarch of the multi-generational Filipino family who live next door to us, was the first person I met when we moved into our house nearly five years ago. I was the first one to the house on moving day and when I stepped out of my Bug, there was Rogelio, standing on the sidewalk, smiling his shy, sideways smile. When he saw me, it felt like he really saw me; he said, “Oh, good…oh good. Welcome.” Those smiles, and his quiet kindness, have been our neighbors ever since.
The last time we saw Rogelio was a month ago. It was the middle of the night and he was being carried up his side yard on a soft stretcher by four firemen/EMTs. He was unresponsive, on oxygen, and looked even tinier of stature than he already was. He’d had a heart attack. He lingered in a coma for a few weeks and died peacefully last week. We were stunned. He was relatively young, still working long days, and we’d seen him just days before down at our neighborhood bus stop. We didn’t know then, of course, that that was the last time we’d get to enjoy his gentle teasing and twinkly eyes. Rogelio and his beloved wife of over forty years had big plans to return to the Philippines next year when they retired. Their extended family and friends there, who called Rogelio “Papa”, were all eagerly awaiting their return. That’s often how life goes, it seems. We make plans, things change, and people are gone before we know it, with no chance to prepare or say goodbye. I’m the girl who mourns when favorite restaurants close without warning, so when it’s someone I care about, well, you can imagine. Losing people unexpectedly is the reminder that seems to repeat itself in its importance: let us do and say what we want to now rather than later, let us tackle those things unattended or unaddressed, and, in the bigger picture, let us live life to its glorious max, giving thanks for it all. Farewell, dear Rogelio. I trust you’re having a neighborly day in the most beautywood of all. Won’t You be My Neighbor It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood A beautiful day for a neighbor Would you be mine? Could you be mine? It's a neighborly day in this beautywood A neighborly day for a beauty Would you be mine? Could you be mine? I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you So let's make the most of this beautiful day Since we're together, we might as well say Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won't you be my neighbor? Won't you please Won't you please Please won't you be my neighbor? -Fred Rogers
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 Those there are a few of my saints. Not saints as in perfect people, but people I knew and loved and from whom I learned, who have passed from this life. They are family members, friends, and role models.
They taught me about generosity, nature, and that actually, there are a ton of good men in the world. They taught me about hospitality, how to play racquetball, and how to be a friend. They taught me the importance of faith, family, and the joy of a shared meal. They taught me about beauty, grace, tenderness, and forgiveness. Some were lights of exuberance; some of deep humility. They were doctors and engineers and pastors and wives and custodians and fathers and Sunday school teachers…one of them taught me how to make toast into art. Some of them I knew well; some less well but with full admiration. Without four of them, I wouldn’t be here today. I give thanks for each and every one of them and their presence in my life, past and present. And as it’s All Saints’ Day (when the dead and our relationships with them are honored), I’ll tell you, I’m still in relationship with some of them. Yep, in relationship. Though time and space separate us, I still call on my saints. I talk with them, I implore them, I ask them for guidance and wisdom. I tell them I wish they were still here, I tell them I love and miss them, and I tell them I don't understand why they had to go. Think I’m crazy? That’s fine, but in case you’re curious, here’s a good article on one of my favorite grief theories, that of the continuing bonds between the living and the dead: whatsyourgrief.com/continuing-bonds-shifting-the-grief-paradigm/ While Halloween was about goblins and ghosts, All Saints’ Day is about the actual people you knew and loved. Both have their pluses, though the latter's purpose may carry you through more of the year. Who are your saints? Who you gonna call? |
the author
Long ago I was an English major. Though some may say my degree has been under-utilized, my love for the written word remains, and sometimes my words turn out okay. Archives
November 2020
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