Sol Part 2: The Letter

If you read "Sol Part 1" you know that on most Tuesdays or at least 3-5 days out of the month I spend an evening with my neighbor Sol.  In the time I have known him he has turned into a mentor/grandpa/abba/friend all rolled into a 5'7 pudgy, crotchety, wrinkly, hard of hearing 80yr old man.  And yes he read that description before I wrote it.  He asked that I include that 30yrs ago he was still quite the charmer.  I beg to differ, he is still quite the charmer.  During one of our first evenings out he asked me "Why are you out to dinner with me?  Don't you have a boyfriend?"  I sassily said "I do not have a boyfriend, but I don't think I'm ready to date an 80yr old yet."  I often use humor to avoid answering questions that make me uncomfortable but it didn't work. He continued down the same line of questioning "You're a smart ass.  What's wrong with you?  I was married by your age.  And ready to have kids.  What are you doing with your spare time?"  I laughed and said "Well Obviously...God wants me to have more fun as a single person than he did you."  This is how our relationship goes.  One snide comment deserves another. 

Me Chasing Sol Down

On our walks he has given me advice on my career (Turns out he was a very successful Banker in his time), he has helped me pick out furniture "Don't spend your money on that, I'll just give you my sofa I only use my recliner anyway", advice on family, along with plenty of dating advice.  I could tell a dozen Sol stories but it would require an entire book. 

I have lived in my new building a little longer than a year and out of that year about 8 of those months were spent getting to know this old guy.  I'm not sure if he has benefited from knowing me but I can tell you that he knows about the Bravo Real Housewives Series, he is a fan of the bachelor, he reads my old People Magazines, he's been to more movies this year than his entire life combined, he says things like 'I'm jazzed', he traveled to California, loves wine tastings, and he likes to eat out at nicer restaurants (read: places that don't have a $1 menu or scratchy voiced waitresses named Flo) now. 

I didn't realize how much I appreciated this relationship until he had several mini-strokes early in the morning at the start of Memorial Day Weekend.  Fortunately he was found by a neighbor, Barbara.  At 3pm on Thursday I got a call from a doctor at Northwestern stating that my friend was in the hospital and they needed a family member at the hospital.  They couldn't get in touch with his Son who lives in the suburbs so I was taxed with getting in touch with his son or heading down there myself.  I left work and headed over.  I got there 10minutes after the call but I had to sit down and mentally prepare myself to see him.  I'm not good in hospitals, somehow when I see sick people it feels like I'm absorbing their pain and it hurts my entire body to be near them.  I was also afraid he was about to die.  After 30minutes of shaking it off I walked into his room.

I walked to the nearest nurse to ask her where he was located.  She took me over to an office and asked me how I was related to him.  I explained that his doctor called me because they were unable to get in touch with his son.  She looked at his chart and said "What is your relation to him?" and I said "Well I'm like a granddaughter I guess."  She looked at me with questioning eyes and I looked at her back with "what the hell lady" eyes.  She said "Oh he just said that his girlfriend would be coming in."  I'm sure I turned every shade of red and just couldn't help but rolling my eyes.  I had a feeling he wasn't in such bad shape after all.  She led me to his room and said "Just be patient with him he's struggling to speak a bit but his symptoms could go away as soon as 24hrs so he needs to try and work at it.  He gets frustrated very easily."

He was hooked up to a monitor and looked like he was asleep but as soon as I stepped I heard the mechanical raising of the hospital bed.  He slurred the words "Wha slooooook so long?"  My scrunched up worry face turned into a smile. I said "Well why did they call me if you were fine?"  He wrote on a piece of paper that Barbara had come to find him around 7am because he had not met her downstairs.  I told him to try to speak so he could practice.  He tried to eek out the words that he was trying to reach for the phone when everything blacked out.  I was very sad that he was having trouble speaking but he needed to exercise those muscles so as he started to write I took away his paper and pen.  He made the international "I am going to slit your throat" sign and reached for the pen and paper.  I pulled it out of his reach.  He was so frustrated he was slurring words I didn't even understand and I'm sure cursing at me.

Prior to his strokes we had a long conversation about relationships.  Sol is 80 and has a few broken relationships with close family members.  I asked him why he didn't apologize, and tell them how he really felt.  He got very upset and I told him that he should write a letter to those people if he felt he could not face them.  He laughed at me and said that people didn't care anymore.  We had a roundabout discussion for another hour about how important it is to tell people before you die because everyone loves to hear that they are loved regardless if they care for that person in return.  His response "You just love hearing about how much people love you."  Which is true, so I said "I'm sure if people told you more often how much they love you, you'd be less grouchy."  He finally agreed with me but only because it was getting close to his bed time and I was wearing him out. 

After visiting hours were over he asked me to go into his apartment and shut some things off.  I said I would do so, then he said "Can lew mail muh levvers in the entry way.  And look on duusk for envelope wis jur nayme lon it."  I asked him what it was and he said that it was something important he wanted to tell me.  He added, "You nosey, jooo wouulve read eh-neway."  This is also true.  I went back to his apartment and found this half written letter which he gave me permission to put on my blog minus one paragraph...

Dearest Clara Ann,

After our conversation last night I realized that I should take your advice.  Very funny right?  Take the advice of a 27yr old.  I have been on this earth for 80yrs and I didn't start living until I met you.  I lived early in my life but I died when my wife died. I was just waiting around until I could see her again.  Last night you said "Why wait until you die?  Why not just tell them now?"  I am sure that you just wanted to know if you were going to get a letter.  You have the longest letter and I have known you the shortest time.

You have been a force of life and you have changed an old man who was very set in his ways.  I was ready to die and be with my wife and then miss loud talking lady moved onto our peaceful floor.  When I first spoke to you there was a genuine care and you did not know me.  You remembered little things I said in passing, and then you invited me for a walk.  I don't know why you would want to walk with a grouchy old man but you found my attitude endearing rather than off putting like most people do.

In the months that I have come to know you I know that for a 27yr old you have more wisdom and understanding than I ever had.  You understand that life is to be made to the fullest.  And though you are very willing to share your stories of travels, many accidents, and people you meet. You rarely speak of yourself that would allow people to see into you.  You have a very heavy guard.  It took you 7 months to tell me the story of why you moved here.  You had your heart broken in the very worst of ways and I never would have known.  You kept a smile on your face and you listened to me talk for 7months and you never shared this!  I was depressed for almost 4yrs after my wife died.  I know you say that 4yrs and 60 are not the same but the love is the same.  You love someone and when they are gone you cannot [he didn't finish]  

You will find love some day, I know you are not in any rush but I do hope that you hurry a little I would like to be alive to meet the man you choose to fall in love with.  I do mean choose.  So many people love you and you need to pick a special man who will appreciate your gifts.

You have many gifts.  The gift of leadership.  Even I want to follow you and do what you do.  I say things like "I am jazzed" or "We must live it up" and my favorite "retard" and my friends wonder why I talk like this now.  You have the gift of acceptance.  I had never met a gay man and now I am friends with 2 of them and I'm not afraid they will try and come after me.  I may be 80 but I still have got it.  You also were accepting of the fact that I wanted you to convert.  You said something I have repeated many times.  "I'm so glad you shared your religion with me.  Someone's religion is the single most important thing to them and for you to want to share that with me means you care deeply about me.  Thank you."  Now when people want to share about their religion, I don't become irritated I thank them!  I still would like you to consider Judiasm.  You have the gift of persuasion.  I became a "yes" man.  I say yes to the party.  And the party is Clara, make no mistake.  I have stayed up later than normal, I go out for wine, I went on a date, I joined a painting class, I went on a cooking class with you, and I have traveled to California at my old age.  I am living this life up!  The last is the gift of honesty.  This is why people follow you, you are who you are and make no mistake it's an incredible woman that you are.  You are not afraid to say things that others are.  You tell me that I am going to die and I need to make the most of the years I have left.  You tell me when I am rude or being "crotchety."  You should not use that word anymore it's terrible.  You have no fear of the truth, especially when it is not nice.

My dear friend I write this letter to you because you are special.  Don't go gloating, part of the special is that you have no clue about it.  There are no words to describe the gift you have given me and you did it all without motive or reason.  You just did it because you love to love and that is truly your greatest gift.

May you continue to be blessed always.

Your old man friend,

Sol

Of all the things I have ever received in my life this has been the most touching present.  Don't waste time in telling people how much they mean to you.  This letter means more than words could ever express and I know if I am ever having a rough day I can read this and get a jolt of love.  I am so very thankful for this letter but even more appreciative of my unexpected friendship with Sol. 

Sadly, Sol is no longer my neighbor and he has moved into the suburbs to be close to his son in a retirement facility West of Chicago.  Although he hates technology he now has a cell phone and calls me at least once a week to tell me stories about his plans of breaking out.  He gives me whispering instructions like, "Listen to me!  Just be here at 3pm on Thursday so we can break out of this place and get ice cream or better yet wine."

Before I posted this I asked his permission since this was such a personal letter.  His response, "I would be honored.  Plus you probably already shared with people."  When I was taking too long to post it his next comment was "Will you write about me before I die please, I need to show people here that I made it onto the computer screen."  I made a second request, "Sol, I want a photo of us to attach it to the blog post."  He said that I could take a photo with him but I was not allowed to publish it since he doesn't look his usual "handsome" self.  So instead here is the next best thing...I love you Sol!