The Hardest Part

Mr. Chambers is gone. 

Which isn't new. He's been gone for weeks.  But not knowing why he was gone has been gnawing at me.  Many it seems.  Because Mr. Chambers, resplendent in his crossing guard uniform, has been a fixture at the corner of Floyd and Westwood for years.

No one knew why he was gone.  There were assumptions. Mr. Chambers was in his early 80s, and had been growing more feeble in his attempts at doing his job.  The oppressive heat of the first weeks of school didn't help either.  He was there one day. Gone the next. 

We received an email this week telling us our assumptions were true.  Mr. Chambers' health had declined to the point that he could no longer work his corner.  He was home under hospice care, on oxygen, with a bad heart.  The email said that he wasn't having visitors because he didn't recognize anyone.  The email ended with the promise that a friend of the family would update the person writing the email on Mr. Chambers condition and she would pass it on when she heard anything new.  Alas, I assume when she passes anything new on to us, it will mean that Mr. Chambers has passed away. 

Mr. Chambers is gone.  Has been gone.  That reserved man who I passed when I walked Boy #1 to school that very first day of kindergarten.  He was there for Boy #2's first day as well.  Mr. Chambers and Boy #2 had a special relationship.  Boy #2 would make Mr. Chambers' usual stern face light up when he would run ahead of us in his nearly daily attempt to sneak up on the crossing guard.  Boy #2 would then climb a tree near Mr. Chambers post and talk to him as he waited for me and Boy #1.

I wasn't lying when I wrote that using a person's death as a teaching point makes me angry.  I hope I've been clear enough today that you aren't left with that impression.  Because it isn't my point. 

I don't know Mr. Chambers.  Not in a real way. 

Not to minimize the man, he's flesh and blood.  Has his own family, his own life, which appears to be coming to an end. 

This is about aboynamedstu, the story of my life, where Mr. Chambers was a background character in some very key chapters.

Like Molly the Dog.

Who is also gone.

I don't walk the Boy(s) to school daily anymore.  My Lovely Bride has been substituting this year so on most days she can walk the Boy(s), who to be honest could walk to school on their own.  They walk home by themselves.  We still do it because our dog Ruby loves those walks to school each day.  Because it is part of our routine. And I think, because we're holding onto something we don't want to pass.  Not yet, at least.

It was on one of my rare walks to school with the Boy(s) a week before I learned the news about Mr. Chambers' condition, that I asked, for the umpteenth time, "I wonder if Mr. Chambers is back?" 

The fact that we were walking together, was testament to the change.  Before Boy #2 would have been a block ahead of me and his brother, running his serpentine, undercover run in his attempt to sneak up on Mr. Chambers. 

"I don't think so."  Boy #1 said.

"I miss Mr. Chambers." I said.  More to myself than the Boy(s).

"The new lady is nice."  Boy #1 offered.

"She is nice." I said.  "But it's not the same.  As Mr. Chambers..."

I trailed off in my own thoughts.  Realizing how quick time passes.  How things change.

The Elder Boy, reading my emotions, walked in front of me look to see my face.  Checking for tears in my eyes, I guess.

"Are you ok, Dad?"  He asked.

"I'm ok Boy.  I'm just sad about Mr. Chambers."  I said.

"(Insert Boy #2's name) is too old to sneak up on Mr. Chambers anyway."  Boy #1 said.

"Yeah. I know..." I said stopping as I looked ahead, noting that it was the lady, who is nice, on the corner.  Mr. Chambers was still gone.  Probably for good, which as it turns out, seems to be true.  Mr Chambers, like Molly the Dog, represents a time and place to me.  Thinking of her, or him, makes me think of then.  Which makes me think of the Boy(s) then.

"I'm kind of sad about that too." I said.

Until I BLOG again...Bittersweet, I could taste in my mouth, Silver lining the cloud, Oh and I, I wish that I could work it out.

Postscript:  Godspeed Mr. Chambers.