Rainbows in Clouds

Roy's wife died soon after I moved into my current house, and so I never really knew her. But although he must have been sad, he always kept up with his usual routines - out first thing for his morning paper, a walk a day to Tesco for essentials and out to the local pub with his son on a Saturday evening. I think those routines must have helped him get through the worst times, and he always looked after his appearance. 

A small, neat man with twinkling brown eyes and a tidy crop of white hair, Roy was a keen gardener who was always ready to offer useful tips whenever he saw me out doing my front garden. He'd share seeds and give me the odd plant cuttings to help me get my back garden established. Best of all was when he showed me around his garden where he was understandably proud of his array of summer flowers along with all manner of vegetables. He was most famous for his tomatoes and was only too happy to share some of his delicious crop. His favourites were, I remember, 'Gardener's Delight' because they are easy to grow and very sweet. But he grew all sorts. Sometimes he'd talk about his wife and shed a tear, but more often than not, he'd greet you with a smile - he had a cheerful disposition. You couldn't help but love him - everybody did.

Years passed, and then one day Roy stopped by to say that he had just been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease and was understandably very upset by the news. At that point it wasn't too bad - just his right hand shaking a bit. I noticed he often used to hold that arm with his left hand when he was walking. But after the initial shock , he just got on with living his life again. That was Roy; he didn't have time to mope. When I asked him how he was doing, he'd just chuckle and say, 'Oh well, it could be worse!' Or, 'It's not me, it the others.' 

Then one cold autumn evening, I'd just drawn up outside my house when I noticed someone crouching over Roy's front step. I had a feeling something was wrong and when I ran over, I found my friend and neighbour, Sue trying to get some sense out of Roy who was slumped shivering on the step. She had already phoned an ambulance, so we got the poor man into his house and made him comfortable in an armchair with my coat over him while I went through his address book and found his son's phone number to let him know he was needed. He wasn't close to home, but said he was on his way. Then the ambulance arrived and Sue left. 

Roy was in no fit state to answer questions and the crew seemed to think he had dementia. I said he didn't, but they weren't listening. He was shaking quite badly - (which he didn't usually do) and was very cold from sitting on the step in the chilly night air. I told them that Roy had Parkinson's and they started stripping him off to examine him, getting a bit impatient when I said he needed a blanket. 'All in due course,' said one of them in a -let us get on with our job tone of voice. But he was so cold and I thought he might be dying. The worst thing in that case would be to be left cold. I was angry but I didn't want to upset Roy, who was getting very fearful by this point. He clung to my hand repeating in a most urgent and clear voice, 'Tell them not to let me die. Please, I'm begging you, don't let me die - promise me!'

I told him in my firmest manner, 'Roy, listen to me - you are NOT going to die!' I kept telling him that now these people were here all would be fine - they knew what they were doing. I promised him. 

His son called again and it was arranged that he would go straight to the hospital to meet the ambulance. By now, Roy was freezing. I said, 'He needs a blanket! We have to get him warmed up now!' To which they answered extra slowly and deliberately, so I would understand, 'He'll have one just as soon as he's in the ambulance.' 
I said, 'No, he needs one right this second. If you haven't got one, I'm going to go upstairs to get one myself.

'Are you a relative?' one of them asked, to which I replied that I wasn't and was told I couldn't go upstairs and start rooting round somebody's bedrooms. I said, 'I can!' And went and fetched a quilt. They went and fetched a stretcher. Roy clung to my hand and begged for me to go with him. Pleaded that I wouldn't leave him. I told him I wouldn't leave him. I promised him. Again.

They put him on the stretcher and said that they would be outside sorting him out for a while and they'd let me know when they were ready to leave. I asked them to let me come and hold his hand while they prepared for the off but they said I'd be in the way. I told Roy, not to worry - his son would be there to meet him and I would just be in the house while they got him sorted. Again, he begged me to come with him. 'They'll let me die because I'm old,' he sobbed. 
I said, 'No, Roy, that's not going to happen. You are going to be fine.' 

When they had him in the ambulance, Roy's son phoned again to say he was waiting at the hospital and for me not to worry about accompanying his dad as it was very late by now. I said I didn't mind, but he pointed out that he would have to stay and there would be no one to bring me home. I went to the ambulance and tried to see Roy, but they said they had to be off. I watched the ambulance leave and didn't know then that Roy was dead. 

The next day, Roy's son knocked on my door with bad news and a massive bunch of flowers. He asked, 'Are you Deborah?' I confirmed that I was, to which he said, 'My dad was always talking about you,' I said, 'Really?' and he said, 'Oh yes, he was always talking about 'Deborah' and her two lovely cats and a dog. He was very fond of you.' I never imagined it. It just shows, you never know but that you might make a difference in someone's day, their life. Roy died of an aneurism. Alone.

Nearly everyone in our close attended Roy's funeral, he was so loved. The day before the funeral, my next door neighbour, Lil and I went to the florists to get a wreath made, but nothing seemed to suit. Then suddenly, I looked at Lil, and said, 'I know what this needs...' and together we said, 'Tomatoes!' The florist said she would be happy to make it up for us but that she didn't stock tomatoes - perhaps we could pop down to Sainsburys to get some, which is what we did. She made up a beautiful wreath of yellow and white flowers with the tomatoes - large and small, red and yellow, arranged throughout. Roy would have loved that - I could just hear him laughing about it. And it did look pretty. I worried about what the family would make of it incase they thought it was a joke, but they loved it and said it was 'so Roy'. 

A couple of years later, Lil's dementia, along with her health (Parkinson's!) worsened and she went into a nursing home. She always asked how the neighbours were and she also asked about Roy. I gently pointed out, 'Well, he died some time back, do you remember?' She said she didn't, and added that she was sure that if he had died they would have had a funeral, and when I told her that they did and that we'd been to it, it was all a blank to her. So then I said, do you remember we had tomatoes put in a wreath for him, and she said, 'Oh I remember the tomatoes alright, but I didn't know he was dead.' And then she cried. Every week when I visited her, she would always ask, 'And how's Roy?' And I would always say, he's fine!' Didn't see the point of upsetting her when all she could remember was tomatoes. And now Lil's gone too. 

At the end of writing this, I'm left feeling sad, but also gladdened in the knowledge that without even realising it, we might make a difference in the lives of others, as they so often do in ours.