My dad in Florida acquired an accidental roommate. The guy across the street from him, Bob, couldn't find work. He sold his furniture, then his car. Back in August, he had the house up for sale. Bob was watching dad's cats while dad visited with me here in New Hampshire. Dad said that if Bob was able to sell his house, he could move into dad's spare bedroom.
The house sold, so dad acquired a roommate. It was just going to be until the guy could find work. However, there's not a lot of jobs in Florida, especially for a guy pushing 60.
A couple days ago Dad came home to find Bob doubled up in pain, so he called 911.
Turns out that Bob had advanced cancer. He hadn't been feeling well, but like most Americans without medical insurance, he ignored it. Now it's too late. If he makes it out of the hospital, it'll only be to go to hospice.
Bob's friends have passed. He's divorced and what little family remains have never visited. Somewhere there's an estranged son. It's fallen to dad to take care of his few remaining things.
I can't help but feel sad. Bob's story isn't all that unusual in today's America. Families don't hold together. There's little social support.
When a friendly neighbor is your closest human connection, it's a sad thing indeed.
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