My next door neighbor died on Monday afternoon. In some neighborhoods, this would go completely unnoticed. However, in my block in North Buffalo, we are fairly close. We watch each other’s houses when we’re on vacation and rake each other’s leaves in the fall or shovel each other’s driveways in the winter. I know it sounds a bit Mayberryish, but I love the fact that if I need anything, I can go to any of my neighbors and ask.

Todd, my neighbor who died, was only 50. To some of you 50 might seem ancient. Todd was full of life and a genuinely kind man. Immediately I went over to the house yesterday to talk to Todd’s son. He is an extraordinarily strong young man (about 12 years old), who was amazed by the support of not only family members, but the neighbors as well. While we were talking, some other neighbors brought over food and we all stood and talked, remarking how young Todd was to be gone so soon. (Aneurysms are quick.)

Todd’s family is finding strength in not only family, but in the neighbors as well. I feel very lucky to live in a community where my support system comes not only from my close friends, but to those that live close to me as well.  That’s the kind of community that Buffalo is and the kind of community that makes me proud to live here.  We pull together, in good times, but more importantly in bad times to support one another.  I’m grateful to live here.

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