My neighbor up the street was an old man who lived alone with his two small dogs. He and I only spoke a handful of times during the past 4 years – once when I ran into him when I was walking the dogs and another time when I noticed his interior car light was left on accidentally. I knew a little bit of his story. He and his wife had moved here a few years before I did. Then, tragically, she was diagnosed with cancer and died within a year. Another neighbor told me he was a former Pittsburgh, like myself and several other neighbors on our street.
I felt sad for him about his wife. In an odd way, I felt a connection to him. We were both widowers who lost our wives to cancer, from Pittsburgh, lived alone with our dogs and kept to ourselves. There were plenty of differences too. I would see his grandson visit and mow the lawn. His daughter and son (or son-in-law) visited too. And he was probably about 30 years older than me.
He also smoked like a chimney. When I worked out in the wee hours of the early morning, I’d see his kitchen light on and would hear him go out onto his screened in back porch to smoke. Even if I didn’t hear him, I knew he was there because the smoke would blow down from two houses away into my garage and I had to close the door to keep it out. The man loved to smoke.
He coughed a lot too which was no surprise given his prodigious smoking habit. Sometimes I would think, “How is it possible that my wife died of lung cancer and he easily smokes twice as much as she did and has outlived her by 20 some years?”
That’s just how the cards get dealt, I suppose. I’ve known plenty of other smokers who live long lives and didn’t die from lung cancer, too.
And then he died.
I had noticed there were a few extra cars and visitors to his home in recent months. I also saw him out less often. On the occasions I did see him, he looked older and more frail.
Then in December I saw a UHaul truck parked front of his home. I figured he was either giving some of his stuff to his grandson, who is around “moving out on my own” age or he was selling his house and moving into assisted living. When I did a quick search online, I came across his obituary.
He had died a few weeks earlier from lung cancer, in his home surrounded by his loving family.
His obituary mentioned he was preceded in-depth by his wife, the love of his life whom he had been married to for 53 years. It said the company where he had worked and retired from. It said he was an athlete as a younger man and listed some of his hobbies.
I wish I had gotten to know him a little better, but we both were men who kept to ourselves.
None of my other neighbors realized The Smoking Man had died which is kind of strange because we all kind of look out for each other. The gossip circuit is alive and well on my block. This time I was the one to tell them.
If he wasn’t close to them, it wasn’t just me. He kept to himself too.
I thought briefly about sending a note to his family. But I don’t know any of them other than to wave at his grandson when he cut the lawn. Hell, I didn’t even know the Smoking Man’s name until I googled it.
I hope he found some happiness and peace in his final years. And although I don’t believe in God or the afterlife, I like to imagine he’s now with his wife.