Farewell, Ray.
My next door neighbor, Ray Johnston, passed away late last night. I'm sure that a blog is a fairly lame place to eulogize someone, but this is the forum I have at my disposal, So here I go:
Ray was a sweet, kind man with a fantastic sense of humor. He had already lost both his legs to Diabetes by the time Sally and I met him. He had suffered a few minor strokes and had congestive heart failure, all of which made him a very sick, and fairly weak man. He had a very hard time moving himself from his bed to his wheelchair and frequently had to rely on other people (usually his wife, Elaine) to move him. Despite all this, 9 times out of 10 he had a smile on his face, and laughter in his heart. This was a guy that, when his wife was going to the store and asked if he needed anything, would reply, "Get me shoes!!!" and then wiggle his stumps at her.
The last few years were hard for ray, in and out of the hospital, more and more unable to take care of himself... I know it frustrated him to heel his independence slipping away like that. My lasting memory of his will be how he endured all of it, keeping his sense of humor intact. I was over there a week ago, and Ray was very weak. Elaine was fitting his oxygen tube on him so he could breathe better. When she was done, I noticed the little tubes that were supposed to deliver his oxygen were sitting outside of his nostrils. I reached over and fixed them. Ray looked up at me, smiled, nodded towards Elaine, and in a soft voice said "She's fired."
I'm really no good at encapsulating a person in words like this. He was a good guy and a good neighbor. He was the first person to welcome us to the neighborhood, and I truly hope that he is at peace now. He deserves it.
I had a dream this morning, after we had heard he passed away. I was standing above a hospital gurney, the kind the EMTs use in ambulances. Ray was lying on it. He opened his eyes and looked at me and, in a voice with no trace of fear, asked me "Where are we going?" I told him, "Don't worry and don't be afraid. Everything's going to be fine. You're going to get your legs back." With that he got a big smile on his face and faded away.
So Ray, wherever you are right now, I hope you're running around. Or dancing. And I hope you know how very much you will be missed.
My next door neighbor, Ray Johnston, passed away late last night. I'm sure that a blog is a fairly lame place to eulogize someone, but this is the forum I have at my disposal, So here I go:
Ray was a sweet, kind man with a fantastic sense of humor. He had already lost both his legs to Diabetes by the time Sally and I met him. He had suffered a few minor strokes and had congestive heart failure, all of which made him a very sick, and fairly weak man. He had a very hard time moving himself from his bed to his wheelchair and frequently had to rely on other people (usually his wife, Elaine) to move him. Despite all this, 9 times out of 10 he had a smile on his face, and laughter in his heart. This was a guy that, when his wife was going to the store and asked if he needed anything, would reply, "Get me shoes!!!" and then wiggle his stumps at her.
The last few years were hard for ray, in and out of the hospital, more and more unable to take care of himself... I know it frustrated him to heel his independence slipping away like that. My lasting memory of his will be how he endured all of it, keeping his sense of humor intact. I was over there a week ago, and Ray was very weak. Elaine was fitting his oxygen tube on him so he could breathe better. When she was done, I noticed the little tubes that were supposed to deliver his oxygen were sitting outside of his nostrils. I reached over and fixed them. Ray looked up at me, smiled, nodded towards Elaine, and in a soft voice said "She's fired."
I'm really no good at encapsulating a person in words like this. He was a good guy and a good neighbor. He was the first person to welcome us to the neighborhood, and I truly hope that he is at peace now. He deserves it.
I had a dream this morning, after we had heard he passed away. I was standing above a hospital gurney, the kind the EMTs use in ambulances. Ray was lying on it. He opened his eyes and looked at me and, in a voice with no trace of fear, asked me "Where are we going?" I told him, "Don't worry and don't be afraid. Everything's going to be fine. You're going to get your legs back." With that he got a big smile on his face and faded away.
So Ray, wherever you are right now, I hope you're running around. Or dancing. And I hope you know how very much you will be missed.
posted by CommonWombat at 9:27 PM
1 Comments:
Wow..I just started reading your blog after coming across it via Poka Bean and Bearca and Karlababble. Just catching up by reading the archives. What a great post--gotta love people like that.
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