The late November day stung our ears.
As we trudged up the incline from the lake, we passed by Larry’s house. Vicki noticed Larry in the driveway. “Hi Larry,” she said, redirecting her steps toward him. “Hi,” he responded walking to meet us at the road.
We paused to spend a few minutes in that age-old most Southern of hospitality traits, friendly neighborliness and small talk for any reason at all.
We asked how everyone was doing (“doing good”) and whether anyone had big plans for Thanksgiving. We talked about the weather—maybe a tough winter locally, we mused. Larry shared something about family in Buffalo and how bad the lake affects snow can be.
As an avid football fan—and having watched many Buffalo Bills football games on TV—I knew Larry spoke the truth.
Thank God for our mild Blue Ridge winters.
A bad night
On Thursday evening Vicki and I noticed flashing red-and-blue lights through the screen of winter trees, down the hill from our house. The lights appeared to be near the three-way stop, just above the lake.
By Larry’s house.
We didn’t know what to think. Ours is a beautiful and peaceful neighborhood of lovely homes well spaced and shielded by many trees. Our neighbors are friendly and willing to help each other at any time for any reason. This is as close to heaven as you can get living on earth.
Red and blue flashers are not a good sign.
A difficult day
The group email from our neighbor, David, was brief:
“Unfortunately I have sad news to share w/you. Larry passed away yesterday.”
Many of us had just seen Larry: at the homeowner’s meeting; on our walk; simply in passing. None of us was ready for David’s email.
The next day
We drove by Larry’s house on our way to the store this afternoon. Still a lovely spot. Car in the driveway. Nothing out of the ordinary. But no Larry.
We passed by in silence.
A couple months ago during a neighborhood gathering at the community fire pit by the lake, Larry offered to give us his electric ice cream maker. It was a nice thing to do.
As a boy, I did not like cake and always requested homemade ice cream for my birthday. My father always obliged, taking the opportunity to put into service our legacy wooden bucket and hand cranked machine. Memories of ice cream on those hot August days in Southern California are as close as I can get to my Dad these days.
Tomorrow
Larry’s ice cream machine is in a box in our garage. I’ll clean it up and put it to good use when warm weather returns. And we will remember Larry this Summer, by the lake.
Beyond that, each of us looks to the bottom line to decide what it means to be human: ten out of every ten people die. That’s 100%.
Is death the end?
Is there something else?
Finishing with these words:
“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” —Romans 6:23
“Jesus said … “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live.” —John 11:25
Rest in peace, Larry.