We have some neighbors that live across the street from us who have been acquaintances of Matt's family for years. One of the gentlemen is 42, and a little slow, but so sweet. He and Matt used to talk whenever they were both outside at the same time, which was often. He came over last week, knocking on the door.
Mind you, I am completely traumatized from knocks on the door, and we don't have a doorbell (maybe it's time I have one installed), but it wasn't so bad because it was the evening, and my mother and uncle were over for a visit.
We talked a bit about Matt, and I told him that Matt loved him. The reason for Glen's visit... this kind gentleman wants to take my garbage out every week for me - "for free." How cute is that? At first I declined, telling him I could do it, but I could tell it really meant a lot for him to help in some way. So I told him that because of our long driveway, I usually put the garbage in the back of my van and drive it up to the curb, but half the time forget that it's in there and drive to work with it, so I"ll take him up on his offer. We agreed that I would leave my garbage sitting outside of the garage doors when I leave the house for work.
Wednesday morning rolls around... There's a knock on the door at 7am (now, this is about the time of the morning that the sheriff knocked on my door, so it had more of an affect on me, and I had to remind myself that Matt was already dead and my children are in their rooms...). As kind and well-meaning as that gentleman is, I am NOT answering the door at that time of the morning. Not for anyone (heart pounding out of my chest).
I put the garbage outside of the garage before I left, and it was still there when I got back later that day. Oh well... I think I'll put a note on the door before I go to bed tonight to remind him that I'll put the garbage outside of the garage when I leave around 8am (I usually leave earlier, but want to imply that 7am might be too early to knock) and hope for the best.