"There was a time, dear... and you were so very pretty."

Started my day, much to my consternation, with another new-to-me client.
This was because his condition is now imminently palliative.
He was a charming gracious gentleman who informed me he needed nothing at all today thank you very much. Now, being possessed of the ability to be charming and gracious myself when I so choose, I asked him, after a few nicie nices to come on along to the other rooms where we could do our job. He came on along.

This man is my father's age, yet looks so very much younger. He told me he had lost 60 pounds since becoming ill and I told him he must have been a very dangerous man to the ladies.

"Yes. I have been married 4 times."

The home was on one of our villages most elegant streets with that view, that incredible view that only now non-Island residents are catching on about and driving prices from what was the upper $200,000 range on that street to the 1 million dollar range. As we shuffled on down to the main bedroom and adjoining bath, we passed pictures of happier times. Most of these pictures were on large sailboats. We also passed his wife, who was obviously impervious to my charm, as she was married to my male counterpart in that area.

"You going to be okay dear?" She asked ever so subtley.
"I don't know." He said and winked at me. Or rather in my direction as I know he is legally blind now.
"IS everything all right?" She said cautiously.
"I don't know..." He paused for a moment.
"Do you think we can trust her (me) to be alone with me?"
His wife laughed.
She leaned in a pinched his cheek.
"Oh I think we can. But there was a day, dear, there was a time."
She looked at him with love shining out of those eyes.
"He likes the ladies. And BOY how they liked him."
She turned and said loudly and in hiss obvious directionnn:
"There was a time dear... and you were so very pretty."

I obliged by looking at a picture we were passing, and saying:
"Especially with that Jesus hair blowing in the wind."

We concluded all the necessaries to the backdrop of him telling me the story of his life in a Reader's Digest condensed version. It was a story of loss and triumph, adherence to a strong belief in social justice and consequences thereof when governments change.
Mostly, it was the story of a very good man, who even drugged to a level most would become indiscreet at, was still fair and kind and merely trying to communicate to another human being that his life was well-lived, if too short. He thought he had more time.

I am the alternate in there so I shan't see him more than twice a week.
It won't be long that I know him. And very possibly this week I shall find him in bed and unable to speak. Or next week. But for now I shall savour the experience of linking up to another great spirit on this road we travel.

Well met Sir. Well met.

---------