Lullabies, look in your eyes; run around the same old town

My brother texted yesterday to tell me that the elderly gentleman who lives beside our camp had died.

We paid Bob to look after the place when we weren't there, a duty he took very seriously. When we got back each summer, we would find a logbook showing the temperature, conditions, and any work he had done every couple of days. We always thought he did too much; we didn't need it. But he wanted to do it.

Bob and Retha were like family to us, the sort of elderly couple you think you might one day be like. He was quiet, with a twinkle in his eye and a story to tell about anyone if you waited long enough. She was sprightly yet stern, and reminded us at times of Kristen Wiig's "Aunt Linda" character on SNL: gah, what the kids are up to these days! We loved them both. Ex and I used to joke that they were "us in 50 years". We would bring them gifts every summer.

My brother and I always considered our camp a family place: open to all to use as they needed to. Bob asked only that people let him know who they were. He did not feel comfortable looking after a house that was in use by goodness knows who, so he put a note in the kitchen asking visitors to call him when they arrived. During their first visit, Ex's aunt and cousins were surprised to discover that he was very serious about this: he showed up demanding to know who they were and threatened to call the police. This would have put a serious damper on what was otherwise a no-holds-barred liquor- and outlet-store shopping trip.

"This WHOLE ROOM was covered in shopping bags!" he tut-tutted. We were thrilled. We told him to do it again if they came back without calling as directed.

They got to know Ex better than they got to know me; my job only allowed me to spend a few weeks per year at the camp, and he could be there all summer.

They were out of town for much of the time my brother and I were at camp this summer, but came over as we were packing up. We noticed that Bob seemed significantly frailer. We were hesitant to ask him to look after the place again, but he genuinely seemed to want to do it. We reassured ourselves that this would be the last time; our parents will soon be moving back to Shore Road and could check on the camp.

We'd changed the locks, so we gave Bob the new key and a check for his yearly fee. As they were leaving, Retha asked how I was doing. I said I was fine. She said it must be hardest on "him". I agreed, thinking she meant Ex. It was only much later that I realised she meant Son, and wanted to run after her to yell "NOOOOOOO!" but restrained myself. She wouldn't understand even if I tried to explain.