But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"

Our next-door neighbor fell in her home of over 50 years and lay there unbeknownst to friends and acquaintances alike for nearly 12 hours. A friend called her phone as she had done for most mornings and did not receive an answer; she called the neighbor's nephew. Police came and cut the door screen; the main door was not locked and let them in only to find her flat on her back on her bedroom floor. No broken bones only bruises.

Her family learned that there had been other falls, unreported to them, happening in the backyard, and in the house several times. Nothing was broken only bruises. Now there is talk of changing her life, of moving her away to Boston to live near two of the three children. She had been our neighbor for over thirty years.

When we first moved in to our house I was summoned by a frantic friend of their only daughter. The husband was not breathing. I had tried to resuscitate him when he was found not breathing on the living room couch. I pounded with all my might on his lifeless chest trying but unsuccessful in getting him to breath. We went to the wake and met more family and friends.

We had seen her children grow up, go the college (or the military) and then move away for good. We had met her grandchildren, and had seen them grow up as they came to grandma's house on their yearly visits. We had joined in the celebration of her eightieth birthday party. We were amazed as to how the family had grown.

We would exchange greetings with her as we simultaneously walked out of our front door on Sunday mornings. Each of us would go to our respective churches; both united in Christianity but separated by dogma. Each of us had some understanding of the other's belief, but never attended church together.

She was more than the friendly nod or wave of the hand across the fence. She had come to our family parties and graduations as well; had shared in the discussions of our children and perhaps knew more about our children than some our relations. We had heard of the tribulations of divorce long before our children were married; of grandchildren that traveled from mother to father and back again before our grandchildren would face the same problems. And now the discussion centers on whether to move her away, sell her house and put her in assisted living. I cannot say anything; it is not my place to say. I am just a neighbor to her and have no relationship at all. I am powerless. I don't want another neighbor.

We can write back and forth but it won't be the same. There will not be that all important spontaneity We will be the friends from her former life; the friends from hundreds of miles away rather than the family on the other side of the fence. If we indeed keep in touch we may learn of her hoped for improvement and successes. But it won't be the same. Mary Virginia (if I may call you that) we will miss you.

K