I’ve been doing even more reflection on the interplay between us and our neighbor, Mr. Ray. Mr. Ray was my neighbor for roughly 25 plus years. He lost his wife around eight years ago. He was a loner. He did not have any living family. He really did not invest much in others. That said, he eventually, after his wife’s passing, allowed me into his space.
Ray and I visited several times a week. I’d go over and simply sit with him and shoot the breeze and assess his cognitive functions. We talked about many things, but he was clear that religion and politics were off the discussion table. I honored that for as long as I could.
But as he entered into what would be his last two years, we talked about how he wanted “things” to end. More specifically, what did he want to do with his estate? He was clear. He had no idea. He knew his money would outlast him, and on multiple occasions he lamented not knowing what to do with it.
I consistently asked him to think about what touched his mind and heart. Rather sure no one ever asked him that. He had nothing in the response tank. That bothered me a bit. How can a man live 90 years and not be moved by someone, something, some entity, some organization or cause?
Of course, there were moments when he and I were hard pressed not to ponder what might be on the other side of this life. Profound moments. He was guarded. He struggled.
Overtime, I introduced Mr. Ray to several student-athletes (WPD small groups). We went over to his house and chatted a bit. On several occasions, Kenny-G (Troy) and I took him pizza. He never wanted us to fuss over him. His “no-pizza-for-me” turned into one slice…then two. Oh, Mr. Ray loved it. And he loved the company and thought the young student-athletes so stellar. Suspect those young men did not know, just yet, the value of a deep, long-term relationship outside their parents. Perhaps they were paying attention.
In November 2023, neighbor Ray died, alone, like he lived his life. He made a call to 911. He was gone when medics arrived. When I returned to the neighborhood, I thought to go ring his doorbell, like I did hundreds of times. Take him some pizza. Replace a lightbulb. Access his thinking. Show him how to use his cell phone. Just talk. Just could not do it. He was gone. Now his modest estate goes through his lawyer. Over the years, he planted not one, flower, shrub or tree on his 150×100 lot.
Recently, (May 2024), I witnessed Mr. Ray’s worldly goods being auctioned off. I went over and met the auction folk. Good group. I shared some stories, even helped a bit. I saw a Bible laying on a table. I picked it up. It had Mr. Ray’s name on the front. The young auction assistant was kind to allow me to take it. I did.
The Bible was in great shape. Mint condition. Not sure if that is good. Most likely not. There were many funeral programs inserted within. That was all.
A second later…he smiles. Always on his terms he thought.
I digress a bit. In June 2023, I left the neighborhood for some extended time. But on one trip back I wrote Mr. Ray a letter. I put it in his mailbox just before leaving again. On subsequent visits he never mentioned the letter. I understand why he might not. Sounds religious. Or does it? Here is what I wrote him:
“Hello Neighbor Ray!
Good to see your old bones the other day.
Just stopping by to share several perspectives. What follows is upbeat and a bit serious at the same time.
First, we miss you. It is that simple.
Second, please keep a line of communication open with your contacts. Let them know how you are doing.
Third, amid all our discussions, I think I have an idea where you stand on several deeper life issues. I think. I could be wrong.
As we all head around third base heading home, yes, we take care of practical things like the estate. Nice. But is that the only preparation?
Let me move a bit closer. In short, and in my opinion, most crucial is my soul…your soul. Yep, just said it. I am interested in knowing if you ponder the next step. Are you ready for what awaits ‘on the other side.‘
Perhaps you got that figured out. Perhaps there is nothing there. Or perhaps there is. If not, then perhaps this is no big fuss. Understood. But if there is, then what is it, and how does one prepare for it?
So, curious, if you suspect there is something on the other side, are you ready for what awaits? How does it work?
If you desire any dialogue surrounding the topic, I am open to it, just let me know. Love to hear your perspectives. And yes, I have my perspectives, just like you do.
Until we meet again, take care Ray.
Peace….
Neighbor Scott”
This morning I reflected on Psalm 49 (Message, MSG). No exegesis here. Just going to let it ride. Together, perhaps we all can muse on it.
49 1-2 Listen, everyone, listen—
earth-dwellers, don’t miss this.
All you haves
and have-nots,
All together now: listen.
3-4 I set plainspoken wisdom before you,
my heart-seasoned understandings of life.
I fine-tuned my ear to the sayings of the wise,
I solve life’s riddle with the help of a harp.
5-6 So why should I fear in bad times,
hemmed in by enemy malice,
Shoved around by bullies,
demeaned by the arrogant rich?
7-9 Really! There’s no such thing as self-rescue,
pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.
The cost of rescue is beyond our means,
and even then it doesn’t guarantee
Life forever, or insurance
against the Black Hole.
10-11 Anyone can see that the brightest and best die,
wiped out right along with fools and idiots.
They leave all their prowess behind,
move into their new home, The Coffin,
The cemetery their permanent address.
And to think they named counties after themselves!
12 We aren’t immortal. We don’t last long.
Like our dogs, we age and weaken. And die.
13-15 This is what happens to those who live for the moment,
who only look out for themselves:
Death herds them like sheep straight to hell;
they disappear down the gullet of the grave;
They waste away to nothing—
nothing left but a marker in a cemetery.
But me? God snatches me from the clutch of death,
he reaches down and grabs me.
16-19 So don’t be impressed with those who get rich
and pile up fame and fortune.
They can’t take it with them;
fame and fortune all get left behind.
Just when they think they’ve arrived
and folks praise them because they’ve made good,
They enter the family burial plot
where they’ll never see sunshine again.
20 We aren’t immortal. We don’t last long.
Like our dogs, we age and weaken. And die. – END