As I write, it is late on the night of August 5 into August 6. The following Sunday morning will be my first “outside” morning since my release from the hospital, following their in-patient physical therapy, following my hip replacement surgery.

I am at my mother-in-law’s home, where my son Jeremy and daughter- in- law Rose live in order to look after her in her old age of 90. Specifically, I’m in bed, typing on my laptop (since I’m lying down, at this moment it is more properly, my “chesttop”).

About 40 feet from the wall of the spare bedroom in which I am sleeping is the house of a man whose suicide by gun occurred a few days after my hip replacement surgery.

I’m still in the process of healing from my hip replacement “wound;” but sadly, that man’s recuperative powers are at end.

My “wounding” was made to achieve a specific outcome; but then, the same might be said of his, despite its “cutting’s” radical nature.

It could be said that the man had “practiced” his “exit” about ten years ago, leaving a bullet in his neck which the doctors were afraid to try to remove. Sometimes, he would mention the presence of this bullet, almost as a war veteran might mention such a “memento” from his former enemy; but more true to nature, the veteran would most likely never bring it up, although there would not be the slightest shame in doing so. But this was a different situation than that of the war-time veteran’s one-point-in-time enemy. This next-door gentleman’s ever-present enemy proved to be himself.

Although I wasn’t a close friend of the man, I have “by- chance” memories of him from times while visiting his next-door neighbors, my mother-in-law and late father-in-law.

He once had a motorboat parked in his back yard, and his home had an indoor pool. This man and his wife loved to take cruises, so we get a picture of one who loved water, whether it be fresh or salt, whether it be lake, ocean, or delivered by his home’s plumbing. In fact, his obituary photograph was a professional one made of him and his wife while on a cruise ship, the background consisting of a picture of the liner upon which they traveled. It is evident that this photograph has been “tampered with,” as his wife’s image has been lopped off, which is fitting, since she didn’t accompany him on this, his last journey.

Along with that parked motorboat, there was the “obligatory” backyard grill upon which the “obligatory outdoor summer food” was prepared.

About ten or so years ago, he had a couple of Dobermans in his back yard for protection, but I guess they aged, died, and weren’t replaced. Even if they had still been there the other week, the dogs would have been of no help to him, being bred for protection from terrors without, instead of for protection from terrors within.

The gentleman had three daughters (past tense for him, present tense for them ). They studied dance at the same dance studio as my daughter Rachel.

The woman, who was of late, his wife, used to be a judge with me at the local polling precinct. Since we couldn’t leave until the votes were counted (paper ballots then), my late wife Diane brought me dinner, as did this man for his wife.

He always had a bright smile for me whenever I ran into him on the street.

He once ran a printing company in a nearby city. His business closed years ago, but the rusty sign bearing his last name is still there, the loading dock door closed.

In my post-op situation, the particular pain I experienced for some years has now ceased, so it bothers me no more.

Of the pain pertaining to the man who once lived next door, the same can now be said.