I can sympathize with your story. My childhood next door neighbors were an older couple. They were probably in their late 60's when I was a kid. He had a one man used car dealership. She was a waitress. They were the best neighbors ever. We helped each other all the time. I spent my summer vacations hanging out in his garage and learning to fix cars. He was always doing chores around the house. I'd cut their grass. They both taught me indirectly more about life than any schooling ever could.

When I was about 15 years old, he had a heart attack. He was taken to a hospital about 30 miles away. I only got to see him once in the hospital. He returned home and I still helped out.

As I turned 19, I met a girl and started spending time with her in lieu of the time I spent with my neighbors. The neighbors moved and I never found the chance to visit them, though they only lived a few miles away.

The man died when I was about 21 or 22. I knew he was not in the best of health, but I couldn't see him the way he was. I wanted to believe he was still able, as I'd always knew him. I went to his funeral. I'm a big guy and I cried more than his biological grandchildren.

I still think of him daily. I still have remorse for not having visited him. This haunts me a great deal even now that I'm in my 30's.

My mom still lives in the same house. My neighbor's house was bought by his daughter. I go past their old house and when it's not maintained, it really bothers me, as I put so much time into and helped so much when he was alive.

The neighbor lady is still alive. I had lunch with her a week ago. I still care for her as I did when I was a kid. She asked me to fix her computer but I fear it, as I'm afraid to visit where they lived. I guess because I didn't visit when I really needed to.

Sorry to dump here but it reminded me of so much I've suppressed.