Now and again I walk into my backyard and think of my neighbor who died not so long ago. She had fallen down a flight of stairs and they couldn’t fix her perforated lung in time. The day before, we passed each other in the driveway. We did not speak. She was walking her dog and I was on my bike. If we made eye contact, or even nodded to one another, I cannot say. The next morning she was gone and I never saw her again. 

I wish I could say I remembered the last time we spoke. To be honest, it was not often that we did. Perhaps it was when she complained about the fallen leaves. She told me that they needed sweeping, that they were ruining the driveway and we had to do something about them. I can’t be certain of any exact word of this exchange, it has the shapelessness of distant memory to it. Vague as it is now, I can’t shake the feeling that before her death every word in this memory was clear, and since her passing it has slowly curdled and wisped away just out of reach. I would like to believe I spoke calmly to her, that I did not argue or say something with bitterness. Yes, that’s what I want to believe, but in truth it did not happen that way. Our words were brief but they were not kind. They had an air of pettiness to them, of suppressed frustration and guarded barbs. I was standing on my porch, helmet in hand, she was on the cracked cement looking up and we spoke. The feeling of the helmet velcro, the sweat on my arms, her glasses turning dark from the winter sun, are all that I can see in this memory, but there is no sound. It has been switched off and try as I might, I can never hear her voice again. 

I had seen her nearly every day of my life. Walking her dog, pulling out of the driveway, pulling in, taking her granddaughter to school, coming home at night. She was a soundless presence in this endless merry-go-round of life. A constant that never seemed to change, that I never thought would go away. On my bike, as I cruised toward the garage, she was there. Walking to the bus stop in the morning, she was there. Her presence did not register anything with me, she simply always was there until one day she wasn’t any longer. All the other pieces still remain untouched, her car, her dog, and the cracked cement, yet still I can’t shake the feeling of missing something. It is as though a wall in my house has been removed or the moon never woke up one night leaving a void that could never be put back.

The other day her husband was walking the dog. It was cold and his hair was gray. I had never noticed that before. I debated for a moment if I should say something. I had not said a word to him in months, to start now would feel forced. Or was that only my cowardice talking, helping me avoid the impossible task of condolences? I don’t know. To my eyes, he seemed shrunken somehow. Compressed slightly, his shoulders hunched, eyes lost. I went over to him. There was nothing to say so I listened. ‘The dog knows,’ he said. ‘He never slept in my bed all these years but the night after she fell he crawled under my covers… it senses something.’ I looked down and realized he was right, the little dog was shrunken as well. It too was broken, it too was lost.

The leaves are gone now. Swept away by the irresolute tides of times. The memories also fade and dance away. Life assumes a new rhythm, spinning a new pattern. I go to the bus stop and she is not there. I pedal into the driveway and the backyard is empty, the chairs vacant and quiet as if no one ever sat on them. The car appears and disappears but someone else is inside. Once or twice I thought I saw her, coming around the corner, walking down the steps. My heart leaps for a second until I remember it is never her. It is only a memory. 

Now and again I think of my neighbor who died. I think of her as I drift down the driveway, feet upright on the still pedals, gears churning cool air. Or when I sit on the back stoop, watching the cats, looking at the gray sky. I think of her and all the things we ever said, all the interactions we ever had, but most of all I think of the fact that she has gone forever and will never be coming back.