Saying Those Words: The Final Day (And Results Of)

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” ~ A.A. Milne,  author of Winnie-the-Pooh

The moment is gone. She is gone. And now it is Friday evening with the knowledge that I will never see our social services coordinator again.

Another person will come and take her place. Just like the people before her.

The residence, MY NEIGHBORS, altogether collected $295 for her. I think they tossed it into a money order and put it in one of two greeting cards that were set aside for her.

This apparently is the most money that was ever collected for any member of SGC staff who was leaving their position here. And yes, this is saying a lot. Many of us were waiting for her to go to lunch. This morning as I was having my morning coffee, Mrs. Irwin mentioned that she was going to have lunch with two co-workers from which the agency that hired her.

It was going to be a 90 minute lunch. What were they going to do, fire her?? It was her last day of work here.

90 minutes was all that was needed in order to set up the room, put out a spread of finger foods and snacks, decorate a little with flowers and balloons and then sit and wait for her to return back to work in the dark.

She actually arrived a little bit after 1:00 PM and some of the neighbors were getting ants in their pants. But eventually she arrived back to work from lunch and the lights went back off, the door shut, and about HALF of all total residents who live here….. sat in total and complete silence.

The apartment manager was behind it all. And so was Mr. Irwin, her husband. He would show up later and join us for a brief time.

It worked. She admitted that she had convinced herself that she only THOUGHT something was coming, but couldn’t quite say for sure what exactly it would be. All of those neighbors who would have been the perfect candidates for letting the cat out of the bag, either by accident or on purpose, never gave her a clue that we were planning a gathering in the afternoon.

She admitted rather quickly that she became misty-eyed. But she did not actually break down into tears. She was given a plant from the collective group. She also received a nice bouquet of flowers that I know of and the money.

I personally wrote her a poem. Telling her that it is hard to say farewell but that we here on the property would remember her and miss her.

Her response?

“That’s impressive.”

Then someone just jumped on in and bragged that poetry is what I do best. I don’t know why they jumped in like that. Mrs. Irwin knew that I wrote poetry.

The event came to an end and Mrs. Irwin made a point to visit those who were unable to get out of their homes to say goodbye to them.

I told her personally that I would be back and I came home to take off the black suit I had put on. I did see her going along the sidewalk, passing by my front door, but I never chased her down.

I went over to her office and she was still gone. Or so I thought.

She was in the apartment manager’s office behind closed doors with all three members of staff together.

I kept getting looks from our maintenance man. A person who doesn’t have a very high score for resident approval ratings. He never gave me any indication of whether or not they were having a private conversation or just chit-chatting with the door closed. He just kept looking at me like he was privileged and I was an outsider.

It was pissing me off because he kept looking through the window in the door, but would not acknowledge anything about me being there. So I left.

Then a little bit later, no more than fifteen minutes I had received a telephone call that a home health nurse was coming to visit. So I scattered to go back to the office area to do what I had to do and say those words that I hate saying and be able to find closure to the situation.

But when I got into the building, she was gone.

I felt the tears building up. But the wind that was powerfully blowing into my face prevented them from falling down my face. I was asked later by the visiting nurse if I cried but I told her that I almost did but could not.

I never got to say goodbye to her. I did get the chance to give her the poem that I wrote and to take a photograph with her. But I did not get that opportunity to say farewell to her. 

And as you probably can already tell, I am so frustrated and disappointed and actually BLAMING the maintenance man for this missed opportunity. Usually when a door is closed, that means privacy. But he could have given me some sort of indication. And he didn’t. He could have, what a selfish man.

I’m pissed.

I ran outside and looked at the parking space that she had been parking in for the past eight or nine months and it was empty.

She was gone. The apartment manager even told me that she was gone and it was final.

Some will argue that since I didn’t actually tell her goodbye that I don’t have to and that she will come back. I do believe that anything is possible. But for her to come back to visit or whatever is less than favorable. At least for now. Maybe down the road.  

I begin the weekend, angered and hurt and disappointed.

So farewell Mrs. Irwin. You’ve done so much more than what you realize for me and for the rest of us. I am going to miss you.

 

 

 

Brick Walls

“If at first you don’t succeed….” 

Yeah, I know… “try, try again”. Shut up!!

There comes a time when a person will fall to humiliation and defeat. And its all up to that person of whether or not they get back up and dust themselves off.

Then there comes a time when you shrug off so much dirt and dust that you learn that you are strong enough to do it again.

And then there comes a time where you fall and it just gets plain stupid and often, funny once you’re able to look back at it and laugh.

I think that throughout my life I’ve hit the brick wall so many times and in so many different ways that it is almost comical.

But I have to say, that things are different now than what they used to be ten or more years ago. My own shyness was killing my social life. I wouldn’t go up to anyone and talk to them.

As of most recently though, running into that brick wall has been one giant bruise after another. I’m like a disaster waiting to happen.

I was just out and about and I went up to a woman and started to talk to her. It started out innocent enough and then the conversation kept expanding to other topics. Eventually, I thought that this woman might be someone that I could be interested to talking to again. And then it went south and that wall was waiting for me when I reached the bottom.

About the time that I actually had moved closer to her, she moved back a little. At the time I was talking about sledge hockey and I guess it was difficult for her to envision me playing a sport. So then I asked if maybe she would be interested in watching me play and that’s when I moved closer.

Yeah, I probably did invade her personal comfort zone. But women don’t have a visible force field or a sign that says “DO NOT CROSS THIS LINE!”.

Within five minutes of that, a man came up from behind her and picked her up and swung her around like a helicopter blade.

Hmmm.

I had already said and done what I did, and wouldn’t you know it she’s got one HELL of a jealous boyfriend. He wanted to kick my ass apparently. I said “nice to meet ya” and got out of there.

There’s been other times where I have actually had the testicular fortitude to say to someone “let’s meet here at this place and time”. And sure enough they would show up. I had met one woman in this manner. After only talking two days online I said she should meet me at this local beer joint. She and I for those previous two days would learn a little bit about one another and I would always hear about how she had this male roommate in the apartment that she lived in. And she had been considering moving out to be on her own.

But when I was face to face with her (and she had a few beers in her) the term “roommate” changed to “boyfriend”.

And there I was in a small bar with her, having drinks. Ugh, the humiliation!

What is worse than falling down in these types of scenarios are the times where you realize that you’ve made a mistake, and you just cannot seem to find a way to retreat out of it.

This seems to happen to me most when I am in Houston. Because its happened more than once.

Okay, okay…. more than twice.

I was talking with a woman and she smiled and I liked it, so I started to flirt. But nothing happened. So I turned up the juice. Flirting and complimenting was getting nowhere.

Then I had abandoned that for straight up hitting on her.

There was nothing still. I had said and done all that I could think of. And then days after I had been home, I was informed that the woman I was speaking to was married. WHERE’S MY ABORT BUTTON?!?!?

I should probably count my lucky stars though. I’m still alive!

I can see how it could put a damper on ever trying that again. Ever! But then I have to remind myself that life is short. And eventually there will come a time where the brick wall of humiliation, despair, and self-cringing will not be there.

Being single can get lonely and it can get very difficult. Being physically disabled adds a whole new level of difficulty when you are single. But not TRYING can be just as devastating. Each and every time this has happened to me, I refer to them as “war wounds”.

I think that what can be given to me as credit is the fact that I am able to look back after awhile and just laugh. Granted that I may or may not make the exact same mistakes, but I can laugh.