Because we wanted to live deliberately

I knew what was up as soon as I saw the police cars.  I think the Holy Spirit told me two nights before as I walked past his house. It was hot and the house was dark and silent. Houses with electricity aren't silent on evenings in Alabama. The sun was down for almost two hours and the thermometer in my car still registered 95.  So, I knew.  But it was already two days too late. 

I looked for the ambulance to come and join the police cars. It didn't, and my knowing was more complete. I ran down the sidewalk. Other neighbors came out too. I saw J. again for the first time in five years. He looks different. Older. A lot. (Does that mean I do, too?) H. was there, too. Because he always is. I noticed the door was off the hinges. And J. put words to what I knew.  Later, the morgue unit came. And that was that. 

His car sits on the curb like it always did. The police even cleaned off the porch. Maybe they got enough information from his VA records to find his brother in California. He was 83 years old. And now, we're the people on the block who have been here the longest. I can't believe it.