The Lonely Loss of What They Once Knew

“Frank! Frank! Frank! Frank! Frank! Frank!” Joe yelled to his neighbor over the synthetic fence. Frank sighed and turned the water pressure of his hose higher, hoping to drown out his pesky neighbor. 

“Not in the mood today, Joe.” Frank yelled boredly. “Tryna get some chores done, and you know that you’ll distract me.”

Joe and Frank had lived next door to each other for years and had yet to meet. It was only by chance they knew each other’s name. By some twist of fate, they have never gotten the mail at the same time, left the house at the same time, or hosted a block party the other had gone to. Frank preferred this lifestyle: he hated Joe’s German Shepherds, and loathed the floodlights in his backyard. Joe was quite the opposite: he loved Frank’s quiet garden he spent so much time on, and he was quite interested in his mysterious neighbor. All Joe wanted was a friend, but Frank had decided long ago to stay far away from Joe.

“Are you in the garden again?” Joe asked persistently. He heard Frank sigh, turn the hose off, and stomp up his creaky steps into his humble one-story home. Joe shrugged to himself and turned to clean up the dog poop. It was an ever present job with his three dogs. “I just want someone to talk to.” Joe mumbled to himself. 

This quarantine was hard on Joe. His wife had recently left him for her pilates instructor, and took half of his belongings. He, fortunately, got to keep the couch, or else he wouldn’t have had anywhere to sleep. The dogs eagerly awaited their daily helping of food, a ritual Joe had trained them in young. Once fed, Joe peeked outside his home to watch the sunset. “Another sunset, another night alone.” He glanced at the ground sadly, imagining what he did wrong to have his life turn out this way.

Frank, likewise, sat opposite an empty chair at his dining room table in his home. He kept a picture of his late wife, Linda, above the chair across from him so he could at least remember her while he ate. He tried to remember her as often as he could, as she had been gone for ten years at this point, and his memory isn’t as good as it used to be. As a seventy-year-old man, he’s used to being by himself. It’s not like with the present conditions of the world his children and grandchildren could visit him without hurting him, he would just have to deal with isolation. 

As the sunset on his side of the fence, he sat in his garden reading. He swung on the swing Linda hung up and thought about his life leading up to this quarantine. He wasn’t very social, had few friends after Linda’s passing, and hated his neighborhood. The only reason he stayed here and hadn’t moved somewhere closer to his family was because he didn’t want to leave the last living memory of Linda he had: her garden.

Tall tomato plants proudly reached to the sky, the green leaves on the stems stretched towards the sun, constantly searching for the light. The red of the fruit gleamed in the afternoon light, creating a sense of relief and safety when you caught it. Green encompassed the land too-emerald cucumbers peppered the soil, leafy kale grew in abundance, and a strong green bean plant climbed the arced support. These vegetables had been Linda’s favorite, and therefore got the front of the garden. The raised beds held peppers, spinach, broccoli, even zucchini. These plants grew beautifully, and their taste was unmatched by any other. In the far back, seasonal pumpkins, watermelon, and corn grew, and even though squirrels and other wildlife were a persistent problem, Linda never had any issue sharing her food with them, so neither did Frank. Once the harvest was ripe, Linda and Frank would spend all day picking and pruning their garden to perfection. They’d take their produce to the farmer’s market, or would go around the neighborhood giving away what they could afford to. 

The garden was fantastic, and everyone in the neighborhood, including the garden, felt Linda’s absence after she passed. Neighbors brought Frank homemade support: desserts, dinners, crock-pot concoctions, heartfelt notes, solemn apologies. At first it was nice, Frank was thankful for the support his neighbors gave him, but he soon tired of it, and it made him mad that he had found strength in knowing she was watching over him, and the others weren’t there yet. 

As he sat in his swinging chair, he couldn’t help but think of Joe, across the fence, who had recently lost in his life too. Everyone knew about the divorce, and everyone knew the reason why. The same support that rallied behind Frank after Linda rallied behind Joe after Judy. Frank sat and thought. He sipped his drink, turned a page, and read a line that resonated with him: you will never understand the pain of someone until you have experienced that same pain.

Frank shut his book with shaky palms. He got up and went inside, shut the door, and closed the blinds. As he was getting ready for bed, he replayed the line over and over again. Joe would like to hear that, he thought, and maybe I should share it with him. 

Joe sat with his beer in his hand reading a book of his own. Page after page, the moon swallowed the sky, and the darkness of the room forced Joe to look up. His eyes blurred, and it took a few moments to focus them again. He sighed, turned on a light, and finished his fourth beer of the night. He had a terrible alcohol problem after Judy. 

He walked into the kitchen in search of another beer, book in hand. Lazily, he opened the fridge and turned a page. He read a line that resonated deeply within him: you will never understand the pain of someone until you have experienced that same pain. Joe opted for a stronger drink. And as Joe was getting ready for bed that night, he too thought of Frank and his great big garden, and he thought of Linda and Judy, and he thought that he would like to hear that line.

As the two men slept, Judy was up, uncomfortable with her new life. She knew she destroyed Joe, fifteen years of marriage, three kids, a few dogs, and one estranged affair could not be healthy for a person. The psychological damage was done, and she knew it. There was no going back after she admitted to Joe what she did, served him papers, and took their youngest and left. She left the dogs, God knows he needed something. He assumed she did this because it would make her happy. He was wrong.

Linda was up in heaven in His garden. A prized gardener, she understood what it meant to truly be in love with oneself. Her death had not been an accident, the marks on her body were permanent reminders of that, and with each day in Heaven, she learned to forgive herself and love the life she had. She couldn’t wait to show Frank what she had built for herself, what she had learned. He struggled with some of the same problems that she did when she was alive, she knows. It was hardest on him. In forty years of marriage, you get to know a person. He assumed she did this because she didn’t love him. He was wrong.

Frank and Joe both woke up invigorated the next day. Both men dressed, ate, and went outside, Joe to allow the dogs to play, Frank to water the garden. It took Joe less than a minute to hear the familiar whooshing noise of the hose. “Frank,” he went closer to the fence, “Frank I need to tell you something.”

Instead of the water pressure increasing, it went quiet. “Yeah,” Frank started, “I do too.” Joe could hear the swoosh of the grass beneath his shoes as he went towards the fence. “Last night I read a book-”

“I read a book last night-”

“You first.”

“No please, I insist.”

Frank started again with a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” He looked down at the ground. “I’ve been a terrible neighbor. I’m still having a hard time with my wife’s passing. She meant the world to me, and last night something happened to me that changed my perspective.” He took another ragged breath. “I don’t think I’ve even properly introduced myself to you. I understand if you hate me forever, but I would like to say,” he put his hand out towards the fence, “my name is Frank McCarthy.”

Joe, unaware of Frank’s hand, said his own piece. “Something happened to me last night as well. I’m sorry I bothered you, I didn’t want to, I just needed a distraction from my empty home. The dogs only go so far for me, I don’t have a beautiful garden like yours to keep my company.” He smiled to himself. “I don’t hate you, and I would like to introduce myself too. My name is Joe Harrington, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The two men would never get to meet. Joe decided to move to the city where his oldest two were. He needed to be closer to his family through this time, and he thought it would be best for his dogs to be around some more familiar faces. Frank unfortunately passed after contracting the disease. His old age made him susceptible to it, and he could not hold on any longer. Joe planned to pay his respects at his funeral, and finally meet the man who helped to open his eyes to a world of possibility.

Linda and Frank met again, and for the first time in ten years, Frank saw Linda’s beaming smile as she welcomed him into the world that taught her to love again.