It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Perhaps I should start every blog entry with a sarcastic title, hm?

Which, of course, leads you to assume that today's title is sarcastic, and it is NOT, therefore, a beautiful day in the neighborhood, contrary to Mr. Rogers' humble daily proclamation, and you would be entirely correct.

But this un-beautiful day has nothing to do with the weather, or this dumpy apartment, or any of those fun things...no, instead, it has to do with our neighbors...

...who left the apartments last night for the last time, in body bags.

But I digress. Bob and Vicky, a retiree couple, live(d) across the way from us...literally, right across the courtyard; our front door is maybe 30 or 40 feet from theirs. Last night the police showed up at their apartment a little while after we'd got the kids to bed, maybe sometime around 9 or 9:30, called out by one of our other courtyard neighbors, I guess, due to a foul smell and the TV turned up REALLY loud. She was a shut-in with all sorts of health problems, and he was her spouse, caregiver, and (we still believe) the love of her life. The kids and I would run over there every now and then to drop off bread or cookies or...whatever, and when one of their two cats, Smokey (the other was Bandit) was ill, I took some pictures for them and framed the best, right there for Vicky when Smokey finally did move on. They were as kind and neighborly as neighbors could be, and I like to think that we were just as neighborly in return.

So we opened up the front sliding glass door last night to listen and find out if Bob and Vicky were okay while the police were here...and were even thinking that maybe they'd left to the hospital or something while we were down in Temecula for Jason's birthday this past weekend. (I will be posting something about that trip later...but this seemed more important.) I was really hoping that the smell was Bandit...he was an old cat, too, and I thought maybe he'd passed on while they were tending to Vicky's health.

Through the door, though, we saw and heard many more officers descending...and then flashes went off inside Bob and Vicky's place (LOTS of flashes)...and finally the proclamation. One of the officers was on his phone, almost directly outside our front door: "...Shot her in the head, and then shot himself in the head. Murder-suicide, pretty cut-and-dry." Unavoidably and in shock, I had a good cry, and shortly thereafter the police were at our place taking a statement. (The last time I'd seen them was earlier in the week...he'd taken her for short walks in the courtyard here in front of our apartment a couple days in a row, and then Tyler had yelled "HI, BOB!" from the dinner table like he often did when Bob was coming home from somewhere Wednesday evening, but we left Thursday evening and came home Saturday, so it must've happened sometime during that stint.) One of the policemen very considerately interuppted our conversation and went to close Bob and Vicky's front door for us, but it was another 3 or 4 hours before their bodies were removed. Jason said he'd heard something about a suicide note, but beyond that, that's all we know.

I guess Bob and Vicky aren't interesting enough to make the news, but as aggreived as I am that he (or they?) felt such desperation in their situation - enough to end their lives - I wanted to express our hope that they have found release, and make sure that they were known and remembered...and not just for their death, but for their love of one another, for their adoration of cats and of kids - which, if I remember correctly, they couldn't have - for their love of clocks (and their commemeration of every moment and event in their lives with a new clock...they didn't have a square inch of un-clocked space on their walls!), and their neighborliness. It's interesting, as we age, how our perspective changes; whereas a decade ago I might have been inclined to judge, at this point in my life I am only full of empathy and truly hope that Bob and Vicky are now comfortable, at ease, and together.

I sure hope the day "pretties-up" quick...and if my kids ever mention Bob or Vicky (and until they can both read and have interest in reading this blog, the latter being probably never), please work with us in letting them know that our neighbors have moved. Moved, moved ON...we don't necessarily feel like we're being dishonest. After all, I think perhaps the Lord was merciful to our little family in this; it's a miracle Jason got the time off so we could leave on Thursday, a blessing that my folks were willing to take the kids those days, and an equal blessing that Bella could stay with her aunt and Grandma on Friday. Otherwise, being a Stay-Home Mom (with all three kids in tow on a Friday, which is when we assume this all must have taken place), the kids and I'd have been the ones to hear gunshots (as it was, no one did, but this place is pretty empty on weekday DAYS), call the police, and perhaps even find them/come unglued around the kids/have had the kids watching the police go in and out. We're grateful that, if things had to work out the way they did, that they worked out the way they did, for our kids' sake. And again, we really hope Bob and Vicky are happy, comfortable, and have found relief and release. They were great people.