Nearly four and a half years ago, I got shocking news and immediately called my mom. Last week, the death angel came visiting again and I instinctively dialed my mother’s number.
This time, it wasn’t my husband but Mr. F.
I met Mr. F shortly after my hubby died. I needed to prepare my condo for a move and considering I’d lived there for over a decade without making a repair, the place was in need of some serious attention. I reached out to a dear friend to see if her hubby could recommend someone. I needed a repairman who was trustworthy, reliable and wouldn’t try to take advantage of the fact that I was A) a woman and B) newly widowed.
He recommended Mr. F and he came prepared to begin the job that day. He worked tirelessly to make sure my condo was in near pristine condition. Whenever I asked how much, he would say, “Give me enough to buy a beer”.
When I moved into my new house, I made a list a mile long and asked him to take care of it. When you have no “honey” for a “honey-do” list, you have to just trust that the person you’ve hired to do a job won’t try to get over on you. Mr. F was reasonable with his billing and when I balked at the price on a couple of jobs, he was kind enough to lower his fees.
I was so impressed by his home repair skills that I passed along his number to my mother who hired him to tackle some jobs around her house.
It had been about six months since I’d seen him. I believe the last job he handled for me was installing an under-the-counter microwave after the one that came with the house went kaput. Although I had not physically seen him, he would text ever so often just to see how I was doing. His last text was dated July 28 at 6:56 p.m. “Hi”.
I replied and mentally began noting all the things that I needed his help with: my linen closet door, the drywall in the kitchen, renovating the guest bathroom…
Imagine my shock when my phone rang and my friend whose husband referred him said:
“Kerry, I have bad news. Mr. F died today”.
WHAT?!?!?
“He was picking fruit and lost his footing and fell out the tree, breaking his neck.”
I felt like a brick hit me in the chest. No one should die such a horrific death, especially someone who was always so kind and helpful. My heart hurt for his children, wife and family. I know firsthand how the love of your life can be fine one minute then dead the next. Life isn’t fair.
As I walk through my house, trying to make peace with the fact that yet another beautiful soul was called home too soon, I look around and see Mr. F’s handiwork: televisions mounted onto the wall; shower heads; toilet tissue holder, carbon monoxide detector, dishwasher that he bolted to the counter to avoid potential tip over on my kiddo; leveling my refrigerator; and countless other little repairs.
I’m so saddened to hear of his death and can only hope my hubby was there to meet him at the Pearly Gates to thank him for looking out for me on so many occasions.
Rest in peace, Mr. F. Gone but not forgotten.