George Dwyer was an odd, little man who, when I was a child, would easily drive me crazy. He was my parents' neighbor for over 30 years. He was the best neighbor you could ask for and as a result, he and my dad would grow to become friends.
I was 10 or 11 years old when my family bought the house next to George and his wife in Dale City, so you can say that George pretty much watched me grow up. George was a talker. He not only liked to talk but he liked to tell stories and was a great embellisher of stories. George loved guns and owned a small arsenal. He was also a huge Chuck Norris fan and although he was never a cop, he always wanted to be and often would "tell stories" about his experiences with the cops. Those "little white lies" made me crazy when I was younger but in most recent years George began to battle dementia and I began to feel bad for him. Last year his wife, Barbara, or "baby girl" as he called her, passed away rather suddenly and George went into severe depression. In his mind, he truly had nothing to live for any longer. All he wanted was to be with the love of his life - his wife of 55 years.
On February 12, his brother, after much prodding from my dad, came to George's house and found he had died in his chair in the living room of his home. I will no longer see that little man with those beady blue eyes in the navy blue coveralls every time I go to my parents house. It's a very odd feeling.
I hadn't really had any conversations with George in a few years and yet my heart was very heavy when I heard he had passed. The main reason I feel is that it terrifies me to think of anyone dying alone. My only hope is that he didn't suffer and wasn't in any pain. There is no reason to believe otherwise but my heart just breaks thinking of someone taking their last breath on this earth all by themselves. I know he is with his wife now, he is happy, the depression is gone and his diabetes and physical ailments have all been cured as well. He can no longer put his own life in danger by driving a car or an innocent bystander. He is at peace now.
At the last minute, I decided to go to the funeral with my parents because George didn't have "anybody" and I just felt like I NEEDED to be there when he was laid to rest. On February 20, I went to Lignum, Virginia, right outside of Culpepper in Orange County, for his funeral. It was a blustery, damp and gloomy day but the little bit of the "po dunk" town that I saw, warmed my heart. Old houses with porches, big oak trees, windy gravel roads and people who drive by waved to each other. A slice of Mayberry. There were no more than 20 people at the graveside service and all, that I could tell, were family. You could tell the pastor of the Methodist Church knew George personally and it was a short but sweet and heartfelt service.
Devoted. That was a word that was used in the message about George and it hit home with me. He was definitely devoted. Devoted to his wife to the day she died... to the day HE died. Devoted to his neighbor - my parents... til the day he died. There's no doubt in my mind the last voice mail message he left my dad was to serve as his goodbye because it was the last time anyone heard from George.... and he told my dad "goodnight" in the middle of the day. Was it the dementia confusing him? Perhaps. But I like to think otherwise.
This bible verse is usually read at weddings and I think it is overused honestly. However, this was the first time I had heard it read at a funeral. The first three verses resonated with me:
"1 Corinthians 13 - If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing."
As I was standing in the cold and listening to the pastor speak, I looked past him to the rolling hills and saw one lone, massive black cow in the distance. The cow barely moved the entire 20 minute service, yet I was drawn to this creature.
After the service, I met George's only brother and his wife. His wife was the cutest Southern little lady and had the biggest smile on her face when she saw me and then hugged me. When I said I was Denny and Linda's daughter (first time I had met her) she said she knew and recognized me from the picture that George had on his dresser in his home. I was so touched and shocked! I had no idea he had a picture of me in his house, but it makes sense after knowing the man for 30 years (probably high school graduation). She then looked at me and said she didn't know my name but only knew me by the nickname that he had for me. She looked a tad bit embarrassed to say what the nickname was because she didn't know if I knew. I looked right at her and said "Movie star, right?" Her smile and mine took up the entire little town of Lignum when I said those words. George ALWAYS referred to me as "movie star". Hell, I don't know if he even knew my real name!! THAT meant more to me than I could ever explain and the tears rolled down my smiling face. She said that he talked about me a lot and now after meeting me she knew why he called me that, because "you DO look like a movie star! You are beautiful!"
With a tear-stained face, I turned to go to the car but glanced over to the field across the street. My cow was gone. Not just in a different part of the field, but completely out of sight. At that moment, I knew without a doubt, that George was here in the form of that one lone, black cow. He was watching over the service and wanted to make sure that I spoke to his sister-in-law and got the message that I needed. In an instant, that cow that barely moved in 20 mintues, had disappeared.
It was late in the afternoon when we began our trip home and we hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. Good ol' Dad suggests we should go to my happy place for an early dinner on the way home. After all, it has become our "after-funeral spot". As mom says, "It makes all your troubles disappear for a while" and she doesn't even drink!
We arrive at my happy place and being a Thursday at 4pm everyone who works there is surprised but thrilled to see us walk in. We literally had the entire place to ourselves and it was a perfect way to relax and send George off to the afterlife.
When we saw what the specials were we knew we made the right decision. Baked Ziti! The first entree my mom ever had at Giorgios was the baked ziti - five years ago and it's hardly ever on the menu. She and I ordered it without a second thought. Ziti, baked in tons of gooey, delicious cheese with a lovely red sauce.
Dad chose the Grilled Mahi Mahi in a dill cream sauce with broccoli. Dad typically goes for the same entree on the menu but this time he broke out of his comfort zone and was so happy as a result!
At this point, we challenged Kurt to find us a wine that would go well with both of the entrees which was not an easy feat! However, "Butta" rose to the occasion and suggested a Pinot Noir (which I had already figured out in my head would work). When he suggested the Iris, I jumped up and down with happiness. Almost five years ago, I went to a Pinot tasting at my happy place and that was when I first met Iris. However, I hadn't seen Iris since until a few weeks ago. I bought a bottle and took it home and stored it so I'd have it, but hadn't even tried it yet. Dad had yet to try it so we decided to send George off with a light Oregon Pinot Noir.
The 2009 Iris Pinot Noir, from Oregon, has a mesquite/smoke smell and is so light in color that it reminded me of a Chianti. It has a light taste, almost too light for me, but then "pops" on the back of your tongue as you swallow it. As I proclaimed instantly "party on my tongue!" It has a very berry and dark cherry taste to it, which is not usually the pinots that I enjoy. I tend to like the earthy pinots; however, Iris went perfectly with both of our entrees and just seemed like the perfect way to end our emotionally-draining afternoon.
Seems as if I have created a monster in my father with red wine and chocolate (yes, I know, I asked for it - he listens to me!), because he immediately wanted to share chocolate with the last glass of wine that we shared.
There was only one chocolate that was appealing to me so we got that one to share - a chocolate mousse. Mike threw in 2 tuxedo chocolate-covered cherries for Mom. She's spoiled there, too!
Look at the tuxedo on the cherry.
Awww, how cute!
Simple pleasures. How does that fit in to this entry? Easily.
Love thy neighbor.
Night Night, George.
The movie star thanks you for a life well lived.
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