Jerry

 

A year ago we found out that our dear friend, Jerry, had been murdered by his son.
We had just moved into this house, and were getting ready for his yearly visit from Colorado, when we were informed of this horrible thing that had happened.

I have been feeling down and sad this day, wishing he was here with us again. I had so wanted him to see this house and enjoy having his own room while he was here. We were so looking forward to him meeting the new baby this year.
But, it is not to be.

With all of this sadness in my heart, are also wonderful memories of him. These i will share with you.

We first met him in 1999, when he came out from Colorado with daughter Lisa. He was quiet and cheerful and such a nice man. He stepped into the heart of this clan with ease and grace.
He would come out every year after that. Sometimes twice, for Thanksgiving and again in the summer. He would stay with us for a week, then go off to visit his grandkids in Nevada before heading back home to Colorado.
He and my Old Guy would take long drives in the hills and woods, talking and having fun, and when they got back they would both fall asleep watching a movie. Never failed. I would look at them there, each in his own chair, heads back, snoring a little, and i would think how nice it was to see them together, brother's of the heart.
My daughter's all loved him like a brother. They would go out dancing, or to the beach, or hiking. His yearly visit was such a sweet gift to us all.

The last year he was here, he stopped off for a few days on the coast. He knew i hadn't been there in a long time, and he knew how much i missed the sea and beach, so when he got here he handed me a grocery bag, in it was a Snapple bottle full of sea water, sand and sea air. There was a little pile of shells and stones, and a little piece of driftwood he had collected from the beach for me. The bottle had to be thrown out after a while, it had a few tiny creatures in it too, which began to smell a bit. But, that gift, that wonderful thoughtful gift from my friend, was the most precious thing to me. I still have the stones, and the shells, and the little piece of driftwood. They live in a place of honor on my shelf, here in my room. As i'm sitting here, i can turn my head to the left and see them there. My gift. My treasure. Given to me by a man who had the heart of an angel. A man who loved his family with all that was in him.

Sometimes, when i think of him, i wonder, just what must he have been thinking when he realized who it was that was his murderer. Oh the sorrow that must have overtaken him at that moment. It is like a knife in my soul to think of it. So, when those thoughts come, i turn my head and look at the gift, and i see his smile.
He is gone. But he is always here. And oh so missed.