Saturday 25th March 2023
I was a fresh faced 23 year old when I moved into my starter home with Nic. I can remember feeling really grown up and wise. But that all changed when we had forgotten to transfer the city council and electricity into our name and we had our electricity cut off on moving-in day. Suddenly new neighbours rallied round with power extensions for the carpet cleaning company and a tray of tea and biscuits appeared on the front stoepie from those at number 99.
The relationships with the neighbours strengthened through the years and it felt like an extended family. Uncle Theo was my ''surrogate dad' being 4 months younger than him and often had similar health issues around the same time. When dad moved far away to the coast, I would look at Theo as a yardstick to my dad's well being.
Theo, though was rather different from Dad in many ways. He was handy and would be up and down ladders painting his gutters, cutting trees and would turn his caravan wheels every month until it was time to tow it on holiday. He loved birds, and we'd talk about the different visitors to our gardens, getting excited when the owls were on the roof. He loved his dogs and would share his snacks and meals with all of them while sitting in his lazy boy chair. My dad too had his chair and the two men would flick their remotes to the sports of choice, dad watching football, Theo his rugby and cricket.
Both loved their games and puzzles and it became easy to gift Theo with a giant suduko book for birthdays or Christmases. They both had a sweet tooth and Theo had a sweet supply in the hall cupboard for his grandchildren and my niece. He would sit in our corner chair when they popped over and drink his tea from a cup and saucer and would share the spottings on their recent game park trips. He loved recording animals in the Kruger with his camcorder and I would loan his cassette cartridge for my own video transfers.
Margaret would send him over with soup, fish and chips and other tasty meals for us, and Pancake Tuesday always saw him beaming through the gate with pride as he presented us with hot pancakes and reminded us of the beginning of lent.
He was so proud of his family and would look lovingly at his wife and I would sometimes hear him call 'Meg' in such a soft loving way that I would pause and watch him. He was an accountant in the mines and would spend time in his small office with his 'books' and things and was always concerned for his family's welfare. As he settled into his retirement years I was so fortunate to be able to witness him and for his family to accept us so freely at all their family functions. We were invited to their Christmas eve celebrations and birthdays always had us share in the feast.
Like my dad, Theo began to quieten and slipped away the last couple of years and his wife and daughter took great care of him. Today, a few weeks short of his 88th birthday, he passed away.
I am fortunate enough to be across the road again at this time, so when I saw the ambulance arrive after all the family's cars, I sensed something terrible. I rushed over and I heard of his passing and I was surprised by how easily my tears came. The shock is keeping the family busy but my grief well cracked open. I know that I'm moving into the generation when lots of goodbyes are said, but it's still difficult when it happens.
I stood on their front step as the doors to the funeral home car were closed, and I looked up to the fading light in the sky and noticed the gutters. I had such a rush of a warm feeling of gratitude for his home, his space, his life.
Now my gratitude is in the reflection of the small part of it, that I was honoured to have shared in breathing the same air of such a gentleman.
Rest in peace, Theo.
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