Un autre voisin de parti!

Un vent de changement continue de souffler dans mon voisinage. J'avais remarqué une rangée de sacs de poubelles à la dernière journée de collecte la semaine passée dans l'entrée du locataire de mon deuxième voisin. C'est comme si on avait vidé la place.

Alors aujourd'hui, j'ai pensé vérifier les avis de décès, et en effet, Gaétan est décédé à la fin de septembre à l'âge de 66 ans. Il était un voisin discret, mais intéressé et intéressant, une fois la glace brisée.

Ce qui avait motivé Gaétan à venir nous parler, c'était la construction du garage à l'arrière de la propriété. Difficile de se cacher quand jour après jour il venait constater le progrès des travaux. Il a finalement engagé la conversation, et après ce moment-là, nous nous sommes parlés à l'occasion. Pas trop souvent. Juste assez pour garder le contact.

Encore cet été, je l'ai aperçu à prendre une marche sur le bord de l'eau, et j'ai été lui demandé comment il allait. Il se souciait surtout du sort de mon conjoint qu'il ne voyait plus du tout. Il avait entendu parlé qu'il avait fait un séjour à l'hôpital et qu'il était changé à tout jamais.

Nous avons eu alors une grande discussion sur les dépendances et comment les gens se prennent en main, ou pas, quand la santé est menacée. Gaétan posait beaucoup de questions et je lui répondais sans gêne. Lui-même affirmait qu'il n'avait pas "de mauvaise habitude" qui mettait sa santé à risque. Pourtant, je le voyais souvent avec la cigarette au bec, et sa voix et sa maigreur laissait comprendre qu'il fumait beaucoup et depuis longtemps. Être dans le déni est une caractéristique de l'homme en dépendance, pensais-je.

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Another neighbor gone!

A wind of change continues to sweep my neighborhood. I had noticed a row of garbage bags on a recent garbage pick-up day in the driveway of the upstairs renter of my second neighbor. It's like somebody had emptied the place.

So today, I thought of checking the death notices, and indeed, Gaétan died end of September at the age of 66. He was a discreet neighbor, but interested and interesting, once the first shyness was surmounted.

What had decided Gaétan to come to talk to us was the construction of the garage in the back of my property. Hard to not get noticed when day after day he would come and check on the progress. The young man from which he was renting his apartment was the contractor building the garage, so that helped. He finally decided to talk to us, T. mostly, and after that, conversation came easier. But he was not overdoing it. We just kept in touch once in a while.

This summer, I saw him take a walk along the river, and it was obvious he was checking to see if I was around. So I stepped out and asked him how he was doing. He had not gained any weight and had a grey complexion. He had heard that T had gone to the hospital and wanted to know how he was doing. He had heard that the news was not good.

We then had quite a long conversation about addictions and how people take care of themselves, or not, when their health is precarious. Gaétan asked a lot of questions and I tried to answer him honestly. He said that he himself did not have any bad habits that put his health in danger. But I could not help but notice that he was smoking while saying this, and I had often seen him smoke, and his rugged voice told me that he had been smoking for a long time. Men often suffered from denial and addiction together, I thought at the time.

Update December 2015: I learned this week that Gaétan was found in very bad shape in his apartment, and had not eaten for 2 weeks. Sent to the hospital, he finally died from his many health problems a few weeks later. I can't help but think about our last conversation together: how he listened carefully to T's symptoms and asked so many questions. Those 2 shared a lot of things: their addictions, how they neglected their body, denial. I'm asking myself if the attempted suicide did not give him the idea to do the same thing.