James

The first time I met James, I was 7 months pregnant with my first child. It was a hot, sticky late morning in September. I had driven 40 minutes south to what would soon become our new home with my car stuffed full of belongings, the first load of many trips that I would be making over the next week or so. 

Since my husband and I chose to stop paying for our home the previous November in hopes of gaining some sort of leverage with the bank to ideally force a refinance, we were now foreclosing on the home my dad and I had bought only 4 years before. Luckily my husband’s Aunt and Uncle had so kindly agreed to let us rent one of their homes in my husband’s small hometown. They had even stopped by our house and delivered the key to us.

Unfortunately, a few days later, when I arrived at our new rental home with the first load of our belongings, the key didn’t work. That was when I met James. He was my husband’s second cousin, my mother-in-law’s first cousin and he took care of the yards of the two homes located right next door to each other that my husband’s Aunt and Uncle owned. He was entrusted with a key to both of the homes that the Aunt and Uncle owned on the street, so he could keep an eye on them during the day and also take care of the yards, while also having refuge from the heat.

When I called James after getting his phone number from my Aunt, he told me he would be a few minutes because he was at the bank, but as soon as he was done he would be right there. I decided to sit on the front porch and wait, rather than sit in my car. I was excited about moving and settling in at this cute little home. And even though it was really hot that morning, I wanted to sit outside and take it all in. 

I watched James pull up in this big old beige pick up truck. He parked on the street between the two houses. He was an older man with an afro, mustache and suspenders. As he got out of the truck, he walked slowly towards me, slightly hunched over with a slow but determined gait. When he arrived to the front step where I had been sitting, I stood up and introduced myself. 

He looked at me with a twinkle in his brown eyes and said, “So you’re married to my cousin? Nice to meet you family. I see you’re expecting a little cousin?”

“Yes, it’s a boy. He’s due in November,” I beamed.

 “Well, I can’t wait to meet him too.” 

His voice was deep and kind of gruff, real country sounding. If I didn’t listen carefully to what he said, the words sounded like they were all mashed together, like he was speaking an entirely different language than English.

That moment was the beginning of one my first relationships in this new home, new town. For five years, he came by just about every week to take care of our yard. Actually when we first moved in, we tried to take over paying for him, but only wanted him to come by every other week because we really couldn’t afford to pay him in the first place. His response to us trying to be a little frugal, was to jokingly tell me, “Tell [your husband]  to quit being so cheap.” I think it was that next week that he was back working on our yard and my husband’s uncle took back over paying for our yard service.

Seeing him every week and talking briefly to him every time, was comforting after awhile. It was routine. At that time, I didn’t have much of a community in this new town. I had just had a baby and really didn’t get out much. His regular visits to take care of the yard were a chance for me to talk to someone. Even if it was only in greetings, it was still that human connection.

As my baby grew and began to walk and talk, he would look forward to James’s visits too. Anytime he came by, Captain Awesome would run outside to go talk to him. They would talk about James’s big old truck, the weather and the yard as well as the way a toddler/preschooler saw life. Captain Awesome always wanted to help James, but was too little to really be of any help at all. Before I knew it, my second baby was running outside to talk to James too. He was family and he looked out for me and my children. When we were out of town he would check on our home for us. 

James was the one I talked to and found solace in after losing my dog to cancer. I was sitting out back on the patio watching the children play in the sprinklers while he sat with me and let me cry and talk about my best four legged friend. James was the one that reassured me that my dog was in dog heaven. The ironic thing was he was terrified of Moki. But he always called him his “four legged cousin”.  “Nicole, you got my four legged cousin locked up so he can’t get me? I don’t want him to come through the window and tryin get me.” 

It was James who warned me about the kid next door to us. I was inside taking care of the house and let Captain Awesome play outside with the neighbor’s grandkid. James had never voiced his opinion to me about much of anything, but that day he told me, “Nicole, I don’t like the way that kid plays. He’s up to no good and [Captain Awesome] don’t need to be around that. I watched them for a long time and he’s making [Captain Awesome] do things that aren’t good. He’s too old for him.” I took his words to heart and since then have never trusted that kid.

Eventually James got to the point where he could no longer take care of our yard anymore. He had an eye surgery and then both his brother and sister got sick and he became the caretaker for both of them. I don’t remember exactly when the last time I saw James was. It seemed like his presence kind of faded from our lives, slowly but surely. As James stopped being able to take care of our yard my husband had to start taking care of it. I believe that was about two years ago.

As of two months ago today, we no longer live in that little house and just yesterday we attended James’s funeral. While I know his time on this earth has passed and he is now in a better place, no longer in pain, I still can’t help but cry for him. James was a great kind man with a wonderful heart. He was so good to me and my boys. I will truly miss him. Until we meet again old friend.