Leaving an Impression
By Jo Mooy 
At 8:30 every morning he ambled past my window always wearing the same outfit — navy blue shorts, pockets bulging with dog treats, a white golf shirt, white sneakers with long white socks, a white baseball cap and oversized sunglasses. He was well-known throughout the neighborhood as "the guy with the dog biscuits" or "the guy who picked up the newspapers" or "the guy who carried in the trash-cans."
He made an impression on us because he always wore a big smile and he knew everybody by first name. He always had a kind word or comment whenever he saw you. When the garbage men left the trash cans and lids in the middle of the street he picked up each one and walked it to the garage door. When the newspapers were tossed onto the driveways he'd pick them up and place them at the door. If you went for a walk and there were no newspapers in anyone's driveway you knew he'd already gone by. He knew who was traveling, who was ill, or who was visiting. He inquired if there was a strange car in your driveway for more days than it should have been. Yet, his "knowing" was never intrusive. Rather, it was a gentle caring about his neighbors and a genuine interest in all the people he met on his daily walks.
But his most special affection was for all the dogs in our housing community. He knew every dog by name and they knew him. Dogs who never wanted to be petted by other than their owners would wait patiently or plant themselves on the sidewalk waiting for him to bring their doggie treats. My own dog would sit at his street corner waiting for him in the morning. When she had to be put on a special diet, he purchased the biscuits the vet required for her.
Their daily ritual continued for several years until the day she died. On that day she was too weary to get up. But somehow her instincts told her he was coming down the street. She went to the door to be let out. In a final burst of energy she hurried down the walkway to see him and in retrospect, to say goodbye. She died a few hours after that. When he learned of her death he cried with us sharing the grief.
I knew him by his daily walks, his kind acts, and his love of the neighborhood dogs. I knew he served the housing association through the volunteer groups. I knew he was a veteran, but based on his youthful appearance assumed he served in Korea or Viet Nam. I knew his wife and knew he had an adult daughter.
At 8:30 on a recent Wednesday morning he was walking ahead of me as I was riding my bike along the paved trails in our subdivision. I yelled out "Good morning, Robbie!" so as not to startle him. He stopped and waved as I pedaled past him. It was the last time I saw him alive. Thirty minutes later he was pronounced dead by paramedics after suffering a massive heart attack in the community clubhouse where he'd gone to lift weights.
Looking back on the five years that our lives intersected I thought about all the times we'd spent talking about dogs and I asked myself, why I never asked him about his life. In his passing I learned so much about him. He was not in his early 70's as I'd assumed but rather was 84 years old. He was about to celebrate his 63rd wedding anniversary. He was a gifted musician playing the piano and organ. He traveled all over the world, living in many countries demanded of his job in the oil industry. There he made long-lasting friends as easily as he had done in our neighborhood. He'd made such an impression that letters from those friends still living in far-off lands filled the church's condolences box.
But what stood out the most was how he befriended young people, encouraging them to be better than they were, to take responsibility, to go to college and to become good people. One young woman who followed his explicit guidance, a budding operatic marvel, sang his funeral service. A young man that he befriended 25 years earlier wrote a touching tribute about him and how much he owed to Robbie's counseling.
It's said no one knows the day or the hour of our death. That's probably a good thing because it allows us to wake up greeting each day as a new beginning and giving us a fresh slate to write upon. Robbie's passing did that for me. I realized that this seemingly quiet man had actually left a huge impression on everyone he'd encountered during his lifetime. He didn't have a big pulpit to preach from, nor did he have a cause with a following. He simply cared about everyone he met and treated them kindly. And that can be contagious.
Robbie's death has caused me to think about my life and how I conduct myself and to make some small changes. Now, I slow down on those bike rides, stopping to inquire about a neighbor's well-being, or to ask the questions like "Where do you call home?" "Do you have a family?" "How are you feeling today?" And yes, even sometimes I take a few moments to pick up the trash cans.
I miss Robbie's physical presence as much as the dogs do. Sometimes I glance up from my computer and I catch a glimpse of him in his navy blue shorts and white baseball cap, his pockets bulging with dog treats as he ambles past my window. I know I'm seeing the impression he left on the streets of this retirement community just like the one he left in so many hearts. His daily routine created such an impression in people's lives that they remembered him by his random acts of kindness. Is there a better legacy to leave in this world than to know you touched lives this way?
The day after Jo sent us Robbie's story, she sent us the following message:
"Cal dearest... as though he heard my writings, this morning as I walked the neighborhood a rainbow appeared overhead; right next to the rainbow was a cloud formation that looked like a small dog about to jump over the rainbow. I said to my partner Patricia — "Oh my God, look at that dog jumping the rainbow bridge". And I was overcome with the feeling of gratitude and said, "Thank you Robbie"... In my eulogy of him at the funeral I said he was going over the rainbow bridge to meet all the dogs on the other side."
Sending you this "outlined" photo of dog and Rainbow Bridge...
Love Jo
About Jo Mooy
Jo is a visionary artist, lecturer, writer and a national award-winning photographer whose work has been published in magazines and books. She has a BA in advertising design & studied painting with the Cape Cod School of Art. Her landscape paintings and visionary mandalas are in collections around the world and carried at several galleries on Cape Cod and in Florida.
While spending 30 years in middle management at a Fortune 100 corporation, her spiritual studies & practices continued as she traveled worldwide and lectured across the US. She's studied with many mystery and esoteric schools including Builders of the Adytum — The Rosicrucians — Lucis Trust — The Association for Research and Enlightenment — Yogananda's Self Realization Fellowship. She's studied with Drunvalo Melchizedek, Gregg Braden, Tom Kenyon, Jamyong Singye and is currently an initiate of Shahabuddin David Less of the International Sufi Order.
Jo's devoted more than four decades to meditation, dream journaling, writing and art. Her spiritual mandalas which come while in meditative states of consciousness are used by alternative healers, as well as allopathic dentists and doctors in their practices. Her soul-interpretation mandalas, which are like an intuitive reading, are available by private consultation.
As a visionary and community organizer, she and her life partner lead community ceremonial gatherings, teach spiritual workshops in Sarasota, including the highly acclaimed Purpose Presence & Vision and offer counseling. Jo writes & publishes a weekly online nationally-distributed newsletter called Spiritual Connections. She's a frequent guest on many radio programs and is founder of a very large Women's Meditation Group in south Florida. She's also Director of Spiritual Cinema at Unity. In her spare time she's working on two books: The Messages of the Mandalas and one with her partner called Synchronicities Out Of Time and Space.
Sarasota, FL - 941-866-5752
www.starsoundings.com
Latest articles by Jo Mooy in Spirit of Maat:
April, 2012: LIFE DO-OVERS
March, 2012: Two disks One message - 2012
February, 2012: What's Love Got To Do With It?
January, 2012: Archangel Visits
December, 2011: Next year it will get Better
November, 2011: The Meaning of 11:11:11
October, 2011: WHAT IF THE WORLD ENDS THIS MONTH?
September, 2011: Leaving an Impression
August, 2011: The Georgia Guidestones
July, 2011: In Alignement
June, 2011: Each Position is North
May, 2011: Keep the Candles lit
April, 2011: Sound Healing a Tree!
March, 2011: REMEMBER MIKE!
February, 2011: Archangel Visits
January, 2011: A Matter Of Perspective
December, 2010: Ascension Revisited
November, 2010: The Carrier Waves
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