How Did He Know?

I have always had this great talent of picking neighbours who have perfectly manicured and landscaped yards all through the year.  I deeply watch enviously as cars drive by and slow down to admire their yards.  Some people take pictures.  My neighbours watch this over and over with pride.  Then, they glance over to my yard and their smiles turn to frowns.  I really try, but I just can't grow flowers.  I can't even grow weeds properly and I do my best to shovel, but it looks quite frankly, like I shoveled it.  I just have no talent with yard work.  Believe me, I know how annoying it is to my neighbours to be stuck with me.  I grew up in that house with the perfect manicured yard.  My father had this down to a science and had every tool available.  He had a snow blower, a riding lawn mover, a year round plan for fertilization, a well researched plan, and he had a secret weapon.  My mother.  She loved having the perfect gardens and flower beds.  She took great joy in motivating my father.  We lived on Marigold Street so every year, they came up with new and creative ways of high-lighting the marigold and adding to their annual festival of lights in December. 

Of course, my father was retired and had the time to take pride and care to the yard.  He also knew having a great yard meant dedication and sacrifice.  One time, my father was using the snow-blower and, well it snipped off two of his fingers.  My mom had watched this happen and grabbed the tips and rushed him to Emergency.  The doctor indicated he wouldn't be able to re-attach and stitched up the wounds.  The doctor then told my dad he was writing a prescription for valium.  My dad said that he felt he was fine and it wasn't necessary.  The doctor replied that the prescription was for his wife !

So, we had neighbours that didn't share my dad's passion for yard work.  The only time they shoveled snow was when they were stuck in the drive-way and needed to get unstuck.  For several months of the year, my father would look at his perfectly manicured 2 1/4 inch grass and gaze at their weedy mess and curse when a wind would blow dandelion seeds in our direction.  Needless to say, my dad and this neighbour were not "friendly". 

As the anniversary of my dad's passing is approaching, I am thinking of him often.  I really only have one unanswered question.  How did my dad know?  I don't know the answer.  But, in not knowing the answer, I know the power of humanity. 

It was a normal day in October.  My dad did what he normally did in the morning.  He read the paper, had his breakfast, rode on his stationary bike, and then went to the Mall to visit his girlfriend, Tricia.  She was decades younger than him and they weren't romantically involved but she was a girl and they were friends and there was no other way to describe their relationship other than she was his girlfriend.  When my dad drove to the Mall that morning, there is no way that he could have known he was not coming back that afternoon.  No way he could have known.  Yet, there is lots of signs that he did know. 

He ended up collapsing in the Mall, taken to Dauphin Hospital, and then transferred to St. Boniface Hospital, and ended his life there at Christmas. 

My mom followed the ambulance to Winnipeg also having no idea how long she would be there.  After a week or so, she needed some more personal items for each of them and comfort objects.  When a snow storm happened before Halloween, she knew she needed to go back and figure out how to clear the snow and take care of other activities of life that didn't stop just because of my dad's health. 

When my mom came to our street, she was shocked.  Our neighbour had a perfectly clean drive-way.  And also, our drive-way didn't have a snowflake on it and it had been swept down to the cement.  Our Christmas lights were also glowing.  Up early, but that is the way my mom liked it.  It was a miracle.  My mom was only inside for a minute when the neighbours came over.  They had never been in the house.  They had been watching and when a friend came over to put some mail in, they asked if they could be let into our garage.  The man had borrowed my dad's snowblower and found the lights and decided to honour my father by doing his work until my dad would be back so he wouldn't be behind in his work.  He asked if he could continue to do this until my dad came home and pledged to do my dad proud.  And, he also pledged to do better with his yard so that when my dad returned, he wouldn't be subject to any stress by looking at his yard. 

I don't know if that was the truth of all small towns, but it sure was the truth of Dauphin.   The beauty of people's open hearts was overwhelming and people just seemed to rally around anyone who needed it.  It was just an amazing example of humanity. 

The neighbour kept his pledge, even after my father was gone.  As a family, we were so touched, however, we also knew that my father wouldn't believe it.  He wouldn't believe that this neighbour could meet his standards.  We decided we wouldn't tell him until he could see it with his own eyes.  Of course, we did know in our hearts that my father would never see it with his own eyes.  We just told my dad that we found somebody to take care of the house and the yard. 

Then, one evening in December, my dad was resting in his hospital bed and I was at his bedside reading.  My father sat up in his bed and told me what he was going to do when he got back to Dauphin.  He was going to invite this neighbour over for a drink.  (My dad didn't drink.)  \He was going to toast him for being such a great neighbour and such a great man.  My dad said he was grateful to have him as a friend. 

My dad had many infections and he was often experiencing delirium and said some pretty funny things.  But, this was perfectly clear.  There was no way my dad could have known that this neighbour was really a great neighbour and a great friend.  But, he did know.  He told me. 

This was one of many things that my dad couldn't have known about, but somehow he did know.  But, of course, he knew.  He had lived in Dauphin for 30 years.  He had lived the power and greatness of humanity for three decades.