Henry

Henry was an old and enjoyable man. Never was his lawn too long or too short. The snow was shoveled before the last flake had time to settle. Never did you see a visitor to his home. Never would you see Henry stray out of the neighborhood.

Henry knew everyone. He knew your name and the names of everyone in your home. Old and new residents were treated the same and always with his warm smile and handshake. He could be counted on to make a purchase at your garage sale and as a repeat customer at the many lemonade stands that pop up throughout the summer. Like clockwork he held a Canada day BBQ potluck on his driveways even providing the fireworks.

With all his reaching out and interest in the community, we knew nothing more than he was Henry. He never spoke about his life before he settled here, but he always inquired about ours. It became and unsaid rule to leave his past to him as he never was comfortable sharing.

It was a hot night. The AC didn’t do much to help me sleep. If I was not still awake, I’m not sure I would have heard the soft tap at my front door. Not sure who would be here at 3am I made my way to a window overlooking the front entry. There stood Henry, in nothing but his boxers. The tall lean man looked gaunt in the moonlight. The light blue hues from the moonlight gave Henry a grey look that seemed sickly or menacing. But it was Henry. Shocked I opened the door. Gently without a word he took my hand and led me to the living room. After a deep breath he exhaled his story.

Before coming to the neighborhood, he was a military man. One who saw and lived through things I don’t dare to repeat. I did and do know that without men like Henry my life would not be so easy.

We talked and cried. Shared and watched the sun rise. That night Henry became my hero. Henry needed help. How could I turn away from that? I could not. I did not.

Knowing Henry had only a few weeks to live I had to get to work. The plan was simple enough when you said it. But wow it was extreme.

Henry’s story and the plan quickly but quietly spread.

Using our annual BBQ at Henrys as the date it would all take place was the best option. People came together with an unexpected acceptance and muted anticipation. I’d like to say I was apprehensive and unsure of the plan, but I wasn’t. The BBQ went off with out a hitch. Henry was his charming self and looked 10 years younger. He always enjoyed the BBQ. His demeaner was the same as every year accept there was more of a spring in his step. Was it the knowledge that he was taking control of his destiny? Was it knowing his little community was supportive of the plan? Maybe he was just grateful for the help bringing the plan from words to action. Whatever the case maybe he spent every moment connecting with every person there that evening.

After the fireworks ended the entrance to our world was blocked. Children were tucked in and the rest of us gathered on his driveway and in the street. Served was Henry’s favorite scotch and chocolates. He took his treat inside his home and sat in his recliner facing out his front window. Henry rose his glass and nodded. The fire was started.

The last thing I remember of Henry was the smile on his face as he toasted us one more time, engulfed in flames.