邻居Tom走了 (w English)

一直想写邻居Tom，因为他是我来美国后，除了公司老美同事之外，接触最多的白人。以前曾经动过笔，写下一点点中文和英文，觉得写得不好，就丢在了一边。而今天促使我再次提笔的却是因为邻居A告诉我，Tom走了。 我知道我写什么Tom都不会看到，也看不懂。而在我，写他，或许就是一种释怀。

 

Tom自老伴十年前去世后一直一个人住。听A讲，Tom的儿子，女儿都住在附近，女儿每天早上会打电话给Tom，确定父亲一切安好。10月3、4号早晨，女儿打电话给父亲，估计没人接，发现情况不妙，来父亲住处，发现汤姆已经走了。据说是心脏麻痹过世的，享年87岁。

 

上星期五(10/25)上班路上， A微信我，告诉我这个消息时，我心里难过了好一阵子。虽然平日里接触并不多，我们白天上班，周末也不太碰得到，但当我得知再也见不到这样一位老人时，心中的哀伤慢慢弥漫开来，老人的音容笑貌不停地在眼前晃动。

 

十几年前，这一片新房建好后，我们这些新住户被开发公司的销售人员召集在一起，搞了一个简单的庆祝仪式，邻里间借此相互认识。那是我第一次见到Tom和他太太Alisa, 两位面善的白人老人。

 

Tom祖上是爱尔兰移民，他个不高，偏瘦，一头白发，人看上去很精神，也很健谈。每次见到他，总是干干净净，穿戴整齐，十几年都如此。我们这一片六户人家，是两排房子，一排各三间。Tom的房子在他那一排的角上，我的家在另一排的中间，中间隔着车道，车库斜对着车库，正门各自在车库的另一边。Tom的家在他太太在世的时候去过一次，他的家、车库和他的人一样非常干净整洁。

 

Tom年轻时当过兵(海军工程兵)，退役后又上大学读法律，毕业后一直是个律师。他人很聪明，讲起话来思路非常清楚，懂的很多，也很热心，常常给我们一些房子、社区问题上的tips。Tom退休后一直在家里接点私活，我都曾经想过让他帮忙做个living trust,，问过了价格，因为事情不紧要，一直耽搁了下来。 他出的价格很公道，就像他这个人，很讲理，很和善，很自律。几年前一次聊天时，我给了他我的新电话号码，让他如果有急事需要帮忙联系我们，而他自始至终都没有麻烦过我们一次。

 

Tom有四个孩子。两个儿子，一个女儿住在附近，另一个住在东部。不过，我一直都没有见过他的孩子，也许他们来，都是从前门走的。老人从来没有在我们面前说过子女半点不是，或许是我们之间没有那么close, 或许是老人很知足，总说孩子们对他好，说父亲节，感恩节，圣诞都会叫上他去吃饭、团聚。有一年儿子女儿全家带着他去欧洲玩了好几个星期，老人跟我说起时，描述的话语里有种骄傲和满足。

 

Tom的太太Alisa大概十年前去世的。去世好久后的一天Tom告诉我，太太去世了，是半夜发现不对，叫了救护车送到医院，后来在医院走的。太太走后， Tom一个人住。有时我打开车库门倒垃圾或是出门，会碰见Tom, 而每次只要有机会，Tom都要拉着我聊上一个多小时。所以有段时间，自己忙的时候，甚至有过一种心理，希望打开车库门时，不要碰见Tom， 否则被他拉住了，又不好意思打断人家，就像有一次中午回家吃饭，吃完饭后准备回公司上班，打开车库门碰见了Tom, 被他拉住聊天，一聊又是近一个小时，等谈话结束，匆匆赶回公司，我的午休时间早就大大超时了。可今天，我又多么希望打开车库门时还能再见到他，多点时间陪他聊聊天。。。

 

老人是孤独的。Tom一个修养这么好的人，是不会轻易把孤独两个字说出口，或是写在脸上的。可你一旦走近他，就能感觉到他的孤独，那种内心深处的孤独。一次聊天，我问他，你想念Alisa吗？ Tom回答到" Every day"。随后掏出口袋里的钱包，打开来，给我看太太的照片，讲述他对太太的思念。记得那是一个夏日的傍晚，车道上空空的，就站着我们两个人。夏风吹拂，静静的车道上空漂浮着Tom的声音，那一刻，一种浓浓的孤独之情让我压抑让我伤悲。人的一生有太多孤独的时候，尤其老了，要孤独面对生活，面对死亡，那种的感觉我已经在老人平和的言语中提前体验到了。

 

老人平时看上去很健康，肤色白净红润，如果不是他亲口告诉我，他做过心脏手术，如果不是他卷起衣袖给我看他胳膊手上的血淤，告诉我他的手稍微一碰就瘀血了，我都不相信他有心脏问题。每次见到他，我都会说You look great，而他几乎每次都回答说I feel great， 还信心满满地说，按照统计数据，他如果过了多少岁一道坎，他应该能活到多少岁的。 然而，这话好像说了一年不到，老人还是走了，走的悄无声息，就像一盏油灯亮着亮着，灯内的油越来越少，一阵风吹过，便熄了。

 

Tom性格非常温和，人非常和善睿智，丝毫没有白人骨子里的优越感或是歧视心理，但是他对中国的了解又是片面的或者说是有偏见，至少是停留在二十世纪六七十年代的水平，停留在以前媒体的宣传上。几年前，老人告诉我，他要参加附近一所大学组织的旅行团，由中国政府组织、补贴。他兴匆匆地告诉我，那天我让他到家里坐了坐，找出两本英文版的中国旅游手册，跟他简单地讲了讲各个地方的景点。老人告诉我，他们团队准备了一些小旗帜，每一面旗帜上面写上中文"自由，平等，民主"。我还顺便教他如何说这六个中文字。我不知道在他的了解中，中国人是怎样的一个团体，中国这个国家是什么样一个形象，那次中国之行留给他的印象如何，有没有改变他陈旧的观念。只记得他从中国回来后告诉我，他在苏州园林玩时，人很多，行人很粗鲁，撞到了他，因为老人的血循环不好，稍微一碰就会瘀血，所以他特别在意。他还把书还给了我，书中夹着三张first- class的普通邮票，邮票上没有任何其他图案，简简单单的英文字，Liberty,  Freedom, Peace。只是我不记得邮票被我放到哪里了，今日记起，好想翻箱倒柜地去把它们找出来再仔细看看，那上面寄托着老人对中国、对世界美好心愿。

 

那天，某人公司发了很多瓶酒，我还心想着哪天碰到Tom了，给他拿两瓶去，不想没有机会了。 周五早晨上班开车的路上，邻居A告诉我说，她也刚刚知道Tom走了，他的funeral mass在十点钟。因为跟他的孩子不熟，要上班，离十点钟也就一个多小时，加上没有任何准备，我说我可能去不了了。 A说她也去不了，因为她刚刚旅行回来，病了，不过她刚刚order了delivered的花。我问，我能不能chip in这花，A说，太晚了，投递公司都不能保证今天能及时送到。我只好作罢。下班吃晚饭时又跟某人说起Tom的事，某人也不无遗憾地说，两三个星期前早上打开车库门准备上班时还被Tom叫住，因为自己那天有早会，不能多聊，匆匆打了个照面，不想竟是诀别。

 

这两天，一股淡淡的忧伤始终在心底。十几年的邻居走了，一个我身边熟悉的好人离世了，而我居然是过了两三个星期才知道。我无法想象她女儿打电话给他，无人接听，赶到家中发现老人已经走了的心情。望着斜对面人去楼空的家，回想着这些天夜晚没有灯光的房子，想着再也见不到Tom了，再也没有人会拉着我在窗下聊天了，悲从心起。他悄悄地走了，我也没能去送他一程，只好将这无处表达的心意，注入笔尖，化作一束心香，纪念天堂里的Tom，愿他安息!

 

下面的英文是一两年前写的，没写完，一起贴在这里了。 Though I am prepared that an old man like Tom may leave us one day, when I heard the news that He wad gone, sadness swelled up to the throat......

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When the garage door was rolled up, I was bending myself in the corner, collecting all the trashes to a big bag for the next day’s pickup. I heard the rumbling noise from a neighbor’s garage door, and from the direction, I know it is Tom’s. 

A minute later, Tom called my name from the driveway when I was still crouching over the big trash bag. I stood up and walked out to greet him, and thus started a chat that lasted about an hour, invariably.  At the end of the talk, he would never forget to add a very polite remark like “Say hi to A (my husband)”.

Tom is about 85 years old now. He is short, slim and lithe, always in his neatly ironed shirt. He is an Irish descendant, with a fair color complexion and gray hair, of course, at his age.  He looks healthy and smart, and is a lawyer, who at this age still reads and has occasional cases to bring himself some extra money.

Thirteen years ago, when six families in the same block bought our homes, we were gathered in a celebratory meeting for acquaintances.  That’s how we first got to know Tom and his wife. They live in a bigger home in the corner, while we live in the middle, with a driveway dividing us in between. Tom’s wife Alisa is also a very clean and nice lady, who relished at keeping house tidy and her washing machine busy according to Tom.  She passed away two or three years’ later. An ambulance was called one night, without our knowledge, to take Alisa to the hospital, and she was never back. When Tom told me months later in his calm voice, I was shocked and saddened at the loss.  I could not tell much from Tom’s facial expression how he felt. But many years later, once I asked Tom if he still missed his wife. “Every day”, he responded, his hand reaching for his pocket the next moment.  There right under a thin plastic sheet of his wallet was a picture of Alisa.  I gazed at the fading color picture, listening to Tom’s voice echoing in the driveway.  A loneliness was floating in the air.  

I always ascribed Tom’s talkativeness to his being lonely when a casual conversation easily extended to an hour long.  In the conversations, I was mostly a listener, listening to his stories and latest news of the community, as he attended every community association meeting. Most importantly, Tom is very knowledgeable, knowing the rules like his thumbs. Being a lawyer, he knows how to protect his interest by simply indicating his profession when needed.  He is a warm-hearted person who likes to share his knowledge and advice on local or global issues, ranging from home warranty, property taxes, geographic development of the cities or counties, books he reads daily, to state or world affairs. His life experience, warmth, and his mild temperament made him a welcoming figure in the neighborhood. 

Tom has two sons and one daughter  living around in the same county, though I never got a chance to meet them. They both have decent jobs and families and would occasionally take Tom to their homes for dinners at Thanksgiving, Christmas or other holidays. Tom prided himself over the two caring sons, who once brought him along to the European trip for a few weeks. 

One day, Tom told me excitedly that he got subsidized for a group trip to China, organized by a local college.  At that, I invited him over to our home, giving him two Chinese tour books in English. Like many brain-washed whites, he also looked on China as a strictly dictatorial country, where people cry out for democracy, liberty and peace. When he came back from the trip, he returned the two books to me, though I meant as gifts, along with three stamps, with the word Democracy, Liberty and Peace on them individually. He did not talk much about the political environment he might feel, only a descriptive comment of how he got bruised by a rude passenger bumping into him.