Years ago I was helping the Secret Keeper (my ex) paint the ramshackle apartment that his aging grandmother and her husband Bob lived in. The apartment was tiny and Bob a heavy smoker. The once white walls were dingy gray yellow from years of nicotine, cooking and as a result of living on a busy street.
Annie was about 5 feet high, a bit rotund, with a perfect Santa Claus nose that often had a few hairs growing out of the top. She has a lovely twinkle in her eyes that showed her years on this planet with deep folds and wrinkles. Not too long after we finished painting, Annie ended up in a convalescent hospital where she would spend her remaining 8 years. Bob, finding himself alone for first time in 50 years, shot himself in the head, while sitting in his favorite recliner. He was not a very likeable guy and I do not believe that there was one person on this planet who was sad to see him go, which is one the biggest tragedies I can think of. The Secret Keeper and his dad had to go into that apartment afterward to remove any family items that remained. It was a pretty horrible experience for him but his dad, typical with his nature, took it like everything else in his life, with a tremendous disconnect.
A young friend of mine died a number of years back and he had touched so many lives that they had to rent out a local theater to accommodate everyone that wanted to pay their respects. It is my desire to touch lives and have my essence remain....I don't want to be a Bob.