Billy Coffey

storyteller

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Eleanor’s Story

March 24, 2009 by Billy Coffey 24 Comments

If the UPS man hadn’t delivered a package to her that day, I would never have stopped to say hello. Funny how that happens sometimes, isn’t it? How those little, inconsequential things that happen to us every day are really big things in disguise.

When you see a UPS man, you get out of his way. This is for your own safety. UPS men (and women, of course) are in a hurry. They have to be. They have a truck full of packages that must be delivered before their day can be considered done. No exceptions.

So when on a morning walk I spotted a UPS man delivering a package to a lady in the neighborhood, and when I saw him actually stop and talk to said lady in a conversation, I paid attention.

Older woman, smartly dressed. She smiled and laughed and touched his arm in a motherly sort of way, and he nodded and smiled and tipped his cap as he left.

Funny thing about that house: I didn’t recall ever noticing it. Our neighborhood, though rural and against the mountain, is still a pretty big place. Very likely a few hundred houses in all. I supposed that with so many homes, misplacing one or two in my memory was bound to happen.

My kids did not trick-or-treat there. I was sure of that. And I was equally sure there were no Christmas decorations there last December. I would remember.

I passed by just as the UPS man paused at his truck to type something into his electronic clipboard.

“How ya doin’?” I called.

“Good,” he answered. “You?”

“Good. Busy today?”

He laughed. “Always busy, my man. Especially here.”

“Oh yeah?”“Oh yeah. I’m here every day.”

So began a rather lengthy conversation about the unseen woman in the unseen house. Eleanor, whom I had neither met nor seen in all my years in the neighborhood. Which was, according to the UPS man, a forgivable offense. No one else had really met or seen her either.

She was alone. No family. No children. She spent her life inside for the most part, venturing out for groceries rarely and only when the needs outweighed the trip. She wasn’t a recluse, he said. She was just shy and didn’t want to be a bother.

“Nothing wrong with that, right?” he asked.

“Not a thing.”

He turned and stared at the house. I did likewise. A corner of the living room curtain waved, as if someone was peeking out.

“But she’s lonely. Real lonely. I drop off something for her most every day. She gets these catalogs in the mail, see. Every catalog you can think of. She’ll call and order stuff all day long.”

“Guess everyone needs a hobby,” I offered.

“Ain’t a hobby,” he said. “Like I said, she’s lonely. She orders stuff just to have someone to talk to. Knows all those operators by name, mostly. Talks about ‘em like they’re her family. Which I guess they kinda are.”

“Shut up,” I said.

“Seriously. Told me so herself. I guess they don’t mind. They get her money, she gets some company. She started talking to me because I always delivered the stuff. I always hustle on my other stops because I know she’ll want to sit and talk a while.”

The curtain moved again.

“Gotta go, my man. Take it easy, huh?”

“Yeah,” I answered, still looking at the house. “You, too.”

He left. I stood. Staring at the house.

The curtain moved again.

I could imagine Eleanor in her living room, scared to death and wondering what the strange man by the driveway was doing. She probably had the phone in her hand, ready to call for help. Not 911, though. Given what I’d learned, it was more likely Pottery Barn.

I always considered the forgotten among us to be confined to some faraway city street, huddled beneath park benches or in soup kitchens. That many resided here in my peaceful town was unthinkable. That one resided just down the road from me was heartbreaking.

I walked up the driveway and rang her doorbell. The curtain moved again. There was silence.

Then the door opened.

***

Eleanor passed on recently. I can say that we had many a good visit with one another. I can also say, however, that loneliness is one of those things that doesn’t disappear at once. It takes time. Time she didn’t have.

If I have one consolation, it’s that I’ve learned the company she lacked in this life was found in the next.

Because according to the nurses at the hospital, her last words were these:“I see angels everywhere.”

(photo courtesy of photobucket)

Filed Under: faith, friends, purpose

Comments

  1. Lighthouse Prayer Line says

    March 24, 2009 at 9:51 pm

    Hi Billy,

    Thanks for sharing that with us! Very insightful! I wish we all could realize those as our last words.

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    Reply
  2. Alison Bryant says

    March 24, 2009 at 10:39 pm

    This reminder to take time to notice the needs close by was really needed.

    And realizing that she was watching and may have been wary of a “strange man” would’ve been an easy out for many people. You wouldn’t want to alarm an elderly lady by approaching her, would you? It seems too easy these days to find “good” reasons not to do the right thing. …For me, at least. What a blessing to know her and learn of what she saw at her passing.

    Reply
  3. God's Not Finished With Us Yet... says

    March 25, 2009 at 1:21 am

    That is such a lovely post and as usual your heart is always so readily open to reach out to the hurting. I admire that about you so much as well as learn a thing or two about it.

    LOL…Now I will say that you had me chuckling a bit on your comment about invisioning her having the phone in her hand but not to dial 911, but rather Pottery Barn. Pretty funny!

    You are an excellent writer Billy; something I wish I could say about myself. It’s so pleasing to read your short stories and have a chuckle one moment and then be filled with a sweet tug at the heart the next. What a sweet gift you were to Eleanor!

    Reply
  4. Julie Gillies says

    March 25, 2009 at 4:28 am

    Hi Bill,

    So nice to meet you – thanks for stopping by my blog.

    What a charming but sad story. I don’t know how many conversations you wound up having with Eleanor, but I know she appreciated every one of them.

    You’re an excellent writer. Your writing is clean and fresh, and you write with simple authenticity. (Not that you’re looking for a critique or anything…LOL)

    God bless you.

    Reply
  5. Beth in NC says

    March 25, 2009 at 4:37 am

    What a precious story! And praise God that she saw angels!

    It really is more of a miracle that you live in the mountains and never noticed a neighbor! We have a house up there ourselves.

    Bless you today!
    Beth

    Reply
  6. JJ (Lady Di) says

    March 25, 2009 at 5:54 am

    My neighborhood is small, at least compared to where I grew up, and rural too. It is all dead-ends, 1/2 mile up one way, 1/4 mile side ways, 1 3/4 miles another side ways and 1/2 mile down to the main road (I live right at the cross-way pretty much). Since I don’t have kids I wonder if that puts me at a disadvantage with getting to know people, even though there aren’t a whole lot of kids around here it seems. But it seems that people really don’t get to know each other like they did when I was little, it used to be I couldn’t do anything without my parents knowing. I really only know my next door neighbor. I think walking the neighborhood helps, since I know a lot of my other ones on a nodding and brief chatting (or dog petting) way. I also wonder if it’s the lot size (we all have at least 2 acres) or if it’s just the computer/tv/video game thing keeping us inside?

    Reply
  7. Travis says

    March 25, 2009 at 7:17 am

    You are really good at telling a story in the first person. But you are better at telling a story that matters.

    “True glory lies in doing what deserves to be written, and writing what deserves to be read.”

    Reply
  8. lynnrush says

    March 25, 2009 at 7:36 am

    Wow. What a story.

    Reply
  9. TUC says

    March 25, 2009 at 8:33 am

    Eleanor’s last words gave me chills, thanks for sharing them.

    Reply
  10. katdish says

    March 25, 2009 at 8:40 am

    What a beautiful gift for both of you.

    Speaking of gifts, you are a seriously gifted writer. Wow.

    Reply
  11. Jean says

    March 25, 2009 at 8:58 am

    There was a period of time when my mother (who lived several states away from me) did the same thing. Those operators at various home shopping networks became her friends.

    Sad. I’m so glad she doesn’t live alone anymore.

    Thanks for your honest, open-hearted essays.

    Jean

    Reply
  12. Frisbies Forever says

    March 25, 2009 at 9:11 am

    Isn’t it incredible how God connects the dots so we can meet those we need to? What a blessing. My Eleanor is named Paul and sadly he is dying now. Others can change your life forever, as long as we reach out. I am proud of you! Most would’ve walked away and never given another thought. So many need listening too, sometimes even those with family. Sometimes, they are the loneliest.

    Reply
  13. gzusfreek says

    March 25, 2009 at 9:12 am

    Billy that was moving. Uggg. It hit me deep.I have a neighbor I need to visit with. I’m so glad for you and I know Elenor is too!

    Reply
  14. nAncY says

    March 25, 2009 at 10:41 am

    what a nice ups man.

    Reply
  15. Billy Coffey says

    March 25, 2009 at 2:43 pm

    Katdish- much thanks for the compliment.

    Jean- Really? I honestly thought no one else would ever do that. I guess that shows just how much we all need a little company sometimes. Glad she doesn’t live alone anymore, either.

    Frisbies- You’re absolutely right. We never know the people God might have out there to change our lives. But we have to do the looking, don’t we?

    Reply
  16. Billy Coffey says

    March 25, 2009 at 2:48 pm

    JJ- There really aren’t a lot of neighbors in our neighborhoods anymore, are there? I blame the busyness we all seem to have. The computer/tv/video game thing, too.

    Travis- Is that quote yours? It’s excellent.

    Reply
  17. Travis says

    March 25, 2009 at 3:27 pm

    Alas, Billy, no. The entire thought is:

    "True glory consists in doing what deserves to be written; in writing what deserves to be read; and in so living as to make the world happier for our living in it."
    Pliny The Elder
    Roman scholar & scientist (23 AD – 79 AD)

    Reply
  18. Carol says

    March 25, 2009 at 7:11 pm

    Great story, Billy. I talked today about saying thank you and appreciating the beauty we have been given. My father in law passed away recently and my mother in law lives nearby. I faithfully went to visit George in the nursing home, but realize that I don’t visit her, who is well, but lives alone. I need to remember to make a point to visit those while they are well. My aunt in the nursing home is another guilt factor for me. Why don’t I go visit her more? I am going to try to do better. Thanks for the nudge! Carol

    Reply
  19. lynnmosher says

    March 25, 2009 at 7:56 pm

    Hey, Billy-boy! I l-o-v-e-d this story. How caring of you to make friends with this woman. I’m sure she appreciated every moment you gave her. Excellent!

    Reply
  20. Carol says

    March 25, 2009 at 7:56 pm

    Your story was very moving & gave me much food for thought. Thanks for reminding us to take time to reach out to others!

    Blessings,
    Carol

    Reply
  21. Andra M. says

    March 25, 2009 at 8:02 pm

    It’s so easy to get caught up in our own lives and problems, and not notice those who are in greater need.

    As the others before me said, thank you for the reminder.

    Reply
  22. Jennifer says

    March 25, 2009 at 10:02 pm

    You quote here: “I see angels everywhere.”

    I’m in awe of God.

    He is so good, isn’t He, Billy?

    What gift of grace is this, that He lets us see angels before we see angels?

    Even grace in dying …

    Reply
  23. Joell says

    March 26, 2009 at 11:46 am

    This is a beautiful post…thank you for the reminder to reach out to the Eleanors of the world. Sounds like she touched your life as much as you must have touched hers.

    Thanks for stopping by my blog!

    Reply
  24. Talkin' Texan says

    March 26, 2009 at 6:51 pm

    What a beautiful post. It makes me think of my own parents. They don’t live near me so I don’t see them as often as I should. They get lonely too. I pray they have a neighbor that notices.

    Reply

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