My dear friend, Harold, passed away this past Friday evening. Harold was a resident of the Veteran's Home. He died battling lung cancer, he was only 67. I was fortunate to be able to say my goodbye's to him before he passed. I kissed him on the cheek and whispered to him that "it was alright to go....your lovely wife is waiting for you". Hubby and I had grown very close to him over the past two years. He loved music......especially, Etta James. Oh, how he loved Etta!Hubby burned countless CD's for him. Harold served his country in the Army, then he served the people by being a Philadelphia police officer. Harold was a gentleman.......in every sense of the word. I will miss his beautiful smile and gentle nature. "love you, Harold".
Harold NEVER had any visitors at the home. NEVER once. As far as I knew, he didn't have any family.
Oh, how the vultures reveal themselves when someone is dying. There was family afer all. How they all swooped in and took all of his possessions even before he took his last breath. The son of bitches..........I hope they burn in hell. How can people be so cruel? I can't even think how family can be so fuckin' cruel. Yes, I am mad as hell. I am sick with anger and hurt for him.
I went to his room today and stood in the emptiness. Seeing everything that was there before, that wasn't there now. I felt so sad..........I felt so empty.
When hubby and I were returning from outside (had a cigg), I saw Harold's wheel chair in the hall. I walked passed it, then turned back because something caught my attention. It was Harold's little piggy cigarette lighter just lying on the seat. It was the lighter that I always talked about when he showed it to me. It was so cute.
I took the lighter...........someway, somehow, that lighter was meant for me to find. An act of God? I think so.
I shiver when I write this. It is so weird and I guess, fateful.
I put the lighter on the table next to my chair to remind me of my friend.