I found out this morning that Arthur died yesterday and am so terribly sad. Arthur worked for Anthony’s family as a dairy hand for decades and lived in the worker’s hut. He first came here when he was a teenager (well before my time). Less than two years ago, when Anthony had already begun living in the nursing home, Arthur began to seem very frail and ill and the hut was falling down, so I helped to arrange his transition to a nursing home (not the same one as Anthony’s). It was a heartbreaking decision because Arthur loved it here. After the dairy folded, he simply lived here, did a few odd jobs and, in latter years, just loved to sit on his veranda and watch the birds.
But Arthur thrived in the nursing home, to begin with. He had company, friends, and he was popular with the staff because he was such an unusual character. Ming and I visited him as often as we could, and just two weeks ago I took Anthony to visit, but we could see that Arthur was very ill.
When I rang to tell Anthony this morning, I was hit with such a wave of sorrow and nostalgia that I wept clumsily into the phone and, once again, Anthony had to comfort me. Arthur was part of the fabric of this place, this farm, our lives, for so long. He watched Ming grow up, he kissed me gently on the cheek last time we visited, and he and Anthony shook each others’ frail hands.
jmgoyder 