In Memoriam

My neighbor Gus died yesterday morning. He was kind of our surrogate grandpa. The kind that would help me out any way he could. The kind that would babysit without any notice. And the kind that I "outsocurced" my dirty dishes to, who liked to earn a few extra bucks! The kind that loved to give us small "gifts" of garge sale finds, food, or toys. The kind I will dearly miss...
Probably as with most deaths of the elderly, at first I was just glad he was done suffering and wasn't emotionally affected by it. But today, I'm grieving, maybe just cause I didn't get enough sleep last night. Maybe because I was probably more emotionally attached to him than I was most of my own biological grandparents. I was thinking I needed to right and about him and what I wanted to write in this blog.
Gus moved into the apartment right next to me a few years ago. I think our relationship solidified one day, when he sheepishly knocked on my door and asked if I could drive his son to Butte. He'd been kicked off the bus because the bus driver said he couldn't have his therapy dog Lucky with him. Gus would pay for the gas. My parents said it wasn't safe for a single woman to drive a man or two by herself. I clarified that if an issue were to arise, I'd definately win any altercation, cause all I'd have to do was push Gus off balance and I was a lot bigger and stronger than his son, Roy! I also felt compassion for Roy because he had schizophrenia and his medication had been in his luggage that was already in Butte. He had already had an episode of extreme agitatation. So we went and they praised me for being such a good driver, which of course, I had to share with my family since everyone else thinks I'm such a bad driver.
Every couple of months, I'd give Gus a ride to the bank to deposit his social security check. And sometimes a ride to the grocery store or Gabby's to gamble, and once I even ran to the convenience store on errand for his loose tobacco. I wondered if it was a service or a sin. Maybe a little of both! Gus watched Jaden numerous times. Mostly let him watch movies and fed him diabetic hard candy and snacks. Gus took pride in our yard. Something I had barely noticed. He watered the lawn and planted flowers. He shoveled the walks in the winter. He took pride in his apartment too. It was usually spotless. Gus was very always very kind to me.
Gus worried and fretted a lot. His speech was littered with profanity as he vented about his son-in-law, the alcoholic, Roy, his son who would become loud and try to initiate verbal altercations when he came home in the middle of the night.
Gus loved his dog and he loved my dog. He always pointed out how Jedi followed me everywhere. He felt terrible when Jedi ran away from him when he was dog-sitting. He felt terrible when our fish died, when he was fish-sitting. He felt terrible when I would be awoken in the middle of the night by the obscenities yelled by a drunk schizophrenic.
Gus was a good man. He was wonderful to me and all our other neighbors. My most recent dear memory was feeling extremely lonely one day about two weeks ago. I had just bought a cheap little old piano. I needed attention so I helped him walk to my apartment, helped him to the couch, and he was stuck there since he couldn't get up by himself. I played him song after song. My own captive audience. Yes, I was being selfish, but after every song, he'd validate me saying, "that was nice." Now, Jaden and I have lots of momentos to remember him by: a stuffed animal frog missing one eye, a set of old-school baseball greats figurines, two electric candle lights, and numerous other little gifts. God be with you, August Kaul, 'til we meet again...