Today I closed on a home I had listed. This was a home I had helped the seller purchase just a little over a year before.
I first met Isaac at another listing I had for sale. He was an itinerant PH.D. chemist from points abroad, a transplant in my home community. He was sharp, and tough as nails, we hit it off right away even though he was mid fifties to my 40 years, and from another continent to boot.
He couldn't get an offer accepted on my listing but through diligent pursuit we found him another one. I helped him with furniture, restaurants, shopping and getting around. He knew no one here except the people at his lab, and most of them pissed him off.
About once a week we got together late at night, after my kids were in bed and all my signs had been placed. He'd smoke cigarettes and we'd talk about everything. I learned about his long interesting life and career than spanned the globe. He spoke at least three languages fluently and knew several others. He had famous friends, powerful friends, and friends from many countries.
Last year he flew back to his native country for the first time in five years. He visited with his mother for a few hours, and then she laid down on the sofa and passed away. She had been waiting for him. He had pictures taken 15 minutes before her passing, then she was gone.
Coming back to America he told me the story. It led to more tales of his childhood and family. I let him talk uninterrupted until past 1am. A short time later he left his company. That meant he couldn't remain in the US. We had some dinners and more talks. Then one day he packed up his Lexus and moved on. I met the movers and signed the invoice for the transit. I took charge of his bird and found a new home for it with a pet lover friend.
I miss my friend Isaac. It's rare to meet people like him. I'd rather have sold one less home this year and still have him around, but that's life.
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