I have a surprisingly fun job, with a very unique perspective on the people around me. I drive a taxi.
I have gotten brides to the church on time, rescued from broken down limos, taken expectant fathers to see their children born. Countless youthfully exuberant Marines, on their first outing after returning home from the war have gotten safely to their destinations. But out of all the silly sweet, angry, relieved, and just plain mean people I have driven, no one has touched me like old Mr. Gilbert.
On nice mornings he could be seen walking to see his wife in the nursing home several miles away. He enjoyed his walks when weather permitted, and even though many of us would offer to take him the rest of the way, he always politely refused. Being nearly 80 years old, he was just glad he could still walk that far. He was a small kind of funny looking little fellow, with a quick smile and a sharp wit. He never missed a day visiting his beloved wife of nearly 60 years. His health began to fail, and he missed time with her while he was in the hospital several times. The first day he was out of the hospital from a month long stay, I drove him, and he was like a schoolboy on his first date. He was all dressed up, hair slicked back, without his usual baseball cap, and had a dozen roses for "his lovely bride," a picnic basket with fruit and all the things he had not been able to provide for her while he was away. It was a lovely day, so he took her outside and they spent the day having a picnic.
Then I got sick, many of the other drivers that drove him scattered, and I lost track of Mr. Gilbert. I would often ask about him, but nobody seemed to know what became of him. I just happened to mention this to a driver that had been around for years and he told me what happened. Mrs. Gilbert passed away on a morning last fall. He went to make her arrangements, and they left him alone with her for a final goodbye. When the funeral director returned awhile later, he was still sitting by her, holding her hand, and had gone to join her. They left this world like they had lived in it, together.
I hope no one minds me posting this tribute here, but almost nobody even remembers who they were. I always thought they were beautiful story of two ordinary people with an extraordinary love.
I have gotten brides to the church on time, rescued from broken down limos, taken expectant fathers to see their children born. Countless youthfully exuberant Marines, on their first outing after returning home from the war have gotten safely to their destinations. But out of all the silly sweet, angry, relieved, and just plain mean people I have driven, no one has touched me like old Mr. Gilbert.
On nice mornings he could be seen walking to see his wife in the nursing home several miles away. He enjoyed his walks when weather permitted, and even though many of us would offer to take him the rest of the way, he always politely refused. Being nearly 80 years old, he was just glad he could still walk that far. He was a small kind of funny looking little fellow, with a quick smile and a sharp wit. He never missed a day visiting his beloved wife of nearly 60 years. His health began to fail, and he missed time with her while he was in the hospital several times. The first day he was out of the hospital from a month long stay, I drove him, and he was like a schoolboy on his first date. He was all dressed up, hair slicked back, without his usual baseball cap, and had a dozen roses for "his lovely bride," a picnic basket with fruit and all the things he had not been able to provide for her while he was away. It was a lovely day, so he took her outside and they spent the day having a picnic.
Then I got sick, many of the other drivers that drove him scattered, and I lost track of Mr. Gilbert. I would often ask about him, but nobody seemed to know what became of him. I just happened to mention this to a driver that had been around for years and he told me what happened. Mrs. Gilbert passed away on a morning last fall. He went to make her arrangements, and they left him alone with her for a final goodbye. When the funeral director returned awhile later, he was still sitting by her, holding her hand, and had gone to join her. They left this world like they had lived in it, together.
I hope no one minds me posting this tribute here, but almost nobody even remembers who they were. I always thought they were beautiful story of two ordinary people with an extraordinary love.
