He Called Me Goldilocks

Today, we laid to rest a man who was infinitely special to me. The service was small and brief (per his request), so there was no opportunity for stories or speeches as I'm typically used to at other funerals. However, I've come to realize that the speeches I've delivered on such occasions are integral parts of my therapeutic grieving process. Therefore, I decided to write out what I would have shared verbally - if only for my own emotional catharsis. The result is as follows:

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Ralph Kline – my neighbor, my buddy, my family – he called me Goldilocks.

When I think of Ralph, there are so memories that come rushing back to me – including some of my earliest. He was my NEIGHBOR for as long as I can remember. I never knew life without Ellie & Ralph next door. With yards that blended into one another, he was always just a few paces (or a few childhood sprints) away. I can’t count the number of times I went next door for chocolate milk, or a bowl full of mini marshmallows, or sometimes just to sit on the porch with him & Ellie. He couldn’t wait to see me learn how to ride my bike on 2 wheels. And many years later, he was just as eager to go driving with me on 4 wheels. Shortly after I got my driver’s license, I took him for a drive. He’d been looking forward to that day for so long. We drove and we drove, and at one point after an adventure over the mountain, he asked me if I knew where I was. I hadn’t a clue. And though I’m sure he did, he never told me how to get back. He just let me figure it out. Lo and behold, we made it back.

He was my BUDDY. I remember him making me giggle when he would take out his false teeth. I used to give him a hard time about getting a haircut when he had so little to cut. In the mornings when my brother was in school but I wasn’t quite old enough yet, Ralph would come sit with me while Mom took Kent to the bus stop. We’d spend that time bonding over an episode of Inspector Gadget. If Mom really had a talker on with the other bus stop moms, we could even squeeze in an episode of The Jetsons, too!

As you know, I have a company called Poetic Soul Gifts. As it turns out, Ralph taught me some of the first poetry I’d ever heard & memorized. (much to Ellie’s chagrin)

Old King Cole was a merry old soul

And a merry old soul was he.

He climbed up the steeple

And he peed on the people

And he almost peed on me.

I can still hear him laugh when I would recite that for him over and over.

He may not have been blood, but he was always FAMILY to me. I considered him to be another grandfather, and he treated me as though I was his granddaughter – protective, loving, proud. He & Ellie would come over every Christmas day to see what new goodies Santa Claus had brought to Kent & me. He was at all of our birthday parties. He & Ellie used to take me for drives over to Middlecreek to see the geese. He’d always check in with me to find out my latest report card results. He’d continually ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up – and I imagine my answer varied a little bit each time. He used to get such a kick out of me telling him my favorite color was “geen.” And once I was an adult, he would ask, “Is your favorite color still ‘geen?’” I remember him sitting in the back seat with me on a ride to the ER when I’d hurt my arm as a little girl.

Another time that I wound up injured (did I mention I was clutzy child?) stands out to me as the quintessential example of just how high Ralph & Ellie have always ranked in my book. I was 4 years old, and I’d just taken a tumble, mouth-first, into an oak wood desk chair. I stood, leaning over the tub in the bathroom, blood gushing from my gums. Panicked & pitiful, I cried out to my mom, “Call the ambulance! Call Ellie & Ralph!” If you asked me, the 2 were one and the same in case of emergency.

As a child with bright blond hair, it was perfectly obvious why he called me Goldilocks. Thankfully, despite my hair color changing into countless different hues, I never outgrew this nickname. Regardless of my age, or the color of my hair, it always made me smile to hear him call me Goldilocks. As the years wore on, there were fewer and fewer things that he remembered. I would try to visit whenever I was home from Nashville, but those trips became fewer and further between. The last time I was able to visit with Ralph at any length, he didn’t recognize me. We talked to each other, but not about the same things. Eventually, I had to leave, and my heart was a little bit broken, knowing that he didn’t understand any of what I’d tried to share with him. But before I left, I bent down by his chair to tell him I was leaving. I told him, “It’s me, Ashley. I have to go now.” “Who?” he asked. “Ashley,” I repeated... Silence... He shook his head, as though to say, “I’m just not sure who you are.” Then I said, “It’s Goldilocks.” “Goldilocks?” he said with a familiarity worth celebrating. “Yeah, Goldilocks. I have to go, but I love you very much.” “Oh, I’ve always loved you,” he told me. And in that one moment, we were a part of the same conversation. He was lucid, even if only for a few seconds. He knew me. He loved me. He remembered me as Goldilocks.