PCG e-mailed this tribute, to share with you:
There was an elderly gentleman that lived on a street adjacent to our house (33rd SW near Andover) that we fondly refer to as Pussy Cat Lane because of all of the Tabbies that Titus (our dog) searches for with each morning walk.
He was an interesting man, who for the most part kept to himself. While I would often see him shuffling back and forth with his shopping bag, we rarely exchanged greetings with the exception of good morning, or good afternoon. I remember in exacting detail one day last summer, during an unusually hot spell, when he was walking in front of the house while the sprinkler system was on; there he stood soaking up the mist and all the goodness that a cool rain could bring on a hot summer’s day. In that brief moment I found myself admiring him for his love of life and all that it can bring.
His house is now dark. One of the tires is flat on his van. He died last week.
I, for one, will miss him and his ability to put one foot in front of the other, his love of life and his ability to get on. But it is that picture of an elderly man in a bucket hat standing in the spray of a sprinkler system that will never leave my mind. He meant something to someone, I was one of them. I am saddened for the loss. He made my world a better place, though some would deem him insignificant. He meant something to someone, I must admit I was one of those individuals, though he didn’t know it.
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