Who Was Paul

Paul was the guy who used to live across the street in the first floor end apartment of what was once a resort hotel.   He was wiry, bent, gray and leathered. The spring-like step in his walk was not one of energy and youth, but of age, and sore feet.

I didn't know Paul at all, even though he had been my neighbor for many years. We'd wave in the morning when both of us were walking our dogs, but I never had a conversation with him, nor uttered a single word.  I don't even know how I knew his name, he surely didn't tell me.


Two summers ago, when Paul was about 80 years old, I remember him climbing a wobbly two story ladder, helping replace windows in the over sized structure. He did a lot of hard work for an old guy, but I also observed him getting the help in line, supervising the lawn mowing in the summer, and the snow shoveling in the winter.

Lately I noticed that he just wasn't working the way he had in the past. An assortment of guys from the building seemed to be taking over his jobs. I didn't really think anything of it, after all,  he was in his 80's.


Then one day not long ago, I heard that Paul had died. He died alone, in his sleep, on or around Christmas eve. He'd had surgery and was home recovering. An upstairs neighbor, had been keeping his dog and stopped by in the morning to check on Paul, and leave the dog with him for a few hours. But when she walked into his room, there he was, eyes wide open, mouth gaping wide.  Paul was dead.


It's been nearly two months since Paul died. During that time I watched from my office window as his apartment was emptied and his life dismantled. Just two days ago I saw a UHaul pull up in to the door of his home. There was a woman, and three young girls carrying household items, furniture and clothing into the apartment.


Paul is dead, they don't know it, but I do, and I wonder how long it will be before I stop thinking about the man who lived across the street, who was a a fixture in my life, but a person I did not know at all.