Every pool day for the past 8 years I've walked up past Art's trailer. Art was a sweet, quiet, and unassuming elderly man who lived in a tiny trailer just at the head of my street in the park. He spent most days sitting at his picnic table and watching the world (our little world) go by. His trailer seemed to be the gathering spot for a lot of the old boys here but even in fairly large groups they weren't very noisy. I once heard them discussing nice, warm sweaters.
Art passed away this summer and his trailer sat empty and forlorn until today. His trailer was towed out of the park and the Florida room dismantled and carted away. The workmen raked his lot before they left and now there is no trace of Art.
Life goes on in the park and I'm sure the old boys will find another place to meet and gab but it's kind of disturbing to see how a man like Art can live so many years and then just disappear from sight and soon of mind. Are we really that disposable?
Art had a son who kept watch over him by sleeping on the floor beside his bed the night he died so he has, or had, people who loved him and will miss him more than his casual acquaintances here will. I'm so glad he wasn't alone when he passed away.
I was just a casual acquaintance to Art but I'll probably always remember his sweet smile and soft hello whenever I walked passed his trailer on my way to the pool.
He was a small part of my "moments" but I'll remember him with kindness.
1 comment:
What a sweet tribute Momma!
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