Quite a while back, I read an article with the headline, Woman Lived With Dead Husband for Weeks. Curious to see if it was another misguided story about the scariness of mental illness, I read the article. There it was—a story about a disease which has been linked to mental illness, Alzheimer’s Disease. I’m not positive it’s still classified as a mental illness–I didn’t research the current classification.
The woman was an Alzheimer’s sufferer. Obviously, she didn’t have any family near, and the local police were called when the couple hadn’t been heard from in months.
Police had to force their way into the house, because the woman didn’t understand what was happening. She was in poor health, and it was determined that her husband had died of natural causes about four weeks before.
What appalled me, was a comment from a neighbor, who had known the couple for decades, was quoted as saying, “To think that all of us live right here, this close, and none of us knew anything about it.”
Yeah, think about that one for a moment.
When we lived in our home state – we knew many neighbors. We moved to a couple of different towns, but we knew the people around us. If help was needed with big yard projects, it was there. Nobody asked, it was simply there, because that’s what neighbors do.
In our current home state, our neighbors are all holed up in their homes, hiring someone to do their yard work–except the only neighbor we know–and they are moving back to their homeland. The photos throughout this post are early practice shots from their yard, or outings we took together. (I had more photos of outings, but I can’t find them–yikes! I seriously need to organize and learn a bit more about where my photos go when I back them up)
When my father-in-law passed, I stayed at his house while my husband and his brother took care of their father’s legal business. I can’t describe the feeling I had when speaking to neighbors who stopped by. One young man, instantly welled up when I had to deliver the news. I just wanted to hug the man.
My father-in-law, had a community of love. A village of people who help each other.
Lack of caring for, and getting to know our neighbors, is one of the biggest waste byproducts that progress has created in our society.
This is our fork I was referring to in, What’s the risk worth.
The house my father-in-law lived in was built with his own hands. He made most of the tables, dressers, and cabinets. He built, and installed the kitchen cabinets. He has a drool-over-woodworking shop in the basement.
It’s in the outskirts of a town of less than 5,000 neighbors.
I’ve had a dream of living in a small town since forever ago. However, I was afraid–I’ll bet that’s a surprise to y’all. 😀 Moving to the deep south reminded me of how outsiders are perceived. Maybe small towns aren’t very accepting of outsiders–especially Hippie outsiders–A Hippie who believes that being in nature, not a building, is a church.
After much discussion, we realized it would be the right thing for us to move to the middle of nowhere.
My father-in-law left his home to 3 of his children, and 2 of his step-children. Nobody wants to live in the middle of nowhere Missouri, except us, so we are going to buy out the others.
Because we have a huge house which has depreciated over 30% since we purchased it in 2006, it may be a tough sell. It may take a while, but I’m pretty positive it will sell. I wonder if buyers will take the adult-kids who come with the property. They are built in fixtures.
My home is where my husband is, and while there are a few obstacles to hop around, it isn’t an impossible feat.
Maybe we will get to know some neighbors—even if they are down yonder, on a farm, up the road, and around the corner.
Guess what? I have a goal that is beyond three months, and it kinda feels good. Now I have to learn some patience because this is going to take a while, requiring a bunch mini-goals to reach the end goal.
It just may be my answer to procrastination, and require more mental focus–all good for the ADD. 😀
I know that I will miss creeping around their yard to practice some flower shots.