Ursula had been a German war bride brought back after World War II. I bet she had amazing stories to tell. Problem is, I didn't think to ask her to share her stories, and now I won't have a chance to learn about her singular history.
Two weeks ago, Ursula fell. She was all alone in her home, but close enough to a telephone so that she could call 911. The rescue workers came, but couldn't get her door open, even with their "magic key". I had a chance to stand outside of her door along with a few other neighbors, speaking in hushed tones about how concerned we were for her. Ilsa was scared for her, and drew her a picture which I brought over before the door was opened by Ursula's daughter, who had to drive over from a nearby city.
Urusla is now in a nursing home, never to return to the home she shared with her now-deceased husband for 50-plus years. I wish I had taken the time to sit down with her over a cup of tea and get to know her. Sure, I brought her a loaf of bread once, and I spoke to her a few times, but is that being a real neighbor? I hope I learned my lesson.
2 comments:
I don't know if it's any consolation, but a loaf of bread and some conversation is more than a lot of neighbors do for others. You seem like a kind and caring person, and I'm sure that what you did was appreciated.
Maybe you can send her a card now and then to the nursing home so that she knows you still think about her.
I hear that. I often have "neighbor-guilt", but I'm definitely trying to be more intentional, and your post is a good reminder to that end. How far away is the nursing home? You might still have a chance...
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