Our neighbor, Mr. F, has always been something like a grandfather to E. The Boy drops everything to go help him wash his truck or clean their camper. Whenever Mr. F is on his boat, E was there, “helping.” When Mr. F and his wife, Mrs. P, go on long camping trips, Mr. F hires E to keep up with the mail. Every birthday and Christmas, the kids can count on gifts from Mr. F and Mrs. P, and they’ve come to both our kids’ soccer games to cheer them on. They are the best neighbors one could ever hope for.

Mr. F went into the hospital Friday. Last night, Mrs. P came over to our house to ask us to pray for him. “It seems bad,” she said. As K was putting E to bed, she told him that Mr. F was in the hospital and not doing well. He was soon weeping inconsolably. This morning, K took a phone call from Mrs. P in the living room and came back in tears. “Mr. F died this morning.”

I wrote the first paragraph in the present tense because it’s still unreal that he’s gone so suddenly. Just a little over a week ago, he and his wife were on a camping trip with family. Friday I’d spoken to him briefly as I borrowed his truck for the thousandth time at least to go get more mulch. At some point last week, he waved at me as I worked outside with his usual, cheerful, “Hey there, neighbor!”

Cars were parked along the road and in their driveway all day today as people dropped in to offer their condolences. Mr. F was a loved and admirable man, and the world was a better place when he was in it.