Michelle Lamb

There’s so much that I want to say about Jeff, but as cliche as it sounds…it really is difficult to put into words. Jeff was our downstairs neighbor, but what I hope he knew was that we considered him a good friend as well. We looked out for one another, and that’s something that I grew up appreciating. You say hello to your neighbor, bring in the trash barrels if they brought them out, brush off their car (he did that once for me 😭), help shovel the driveway, borrow random pantry items from, check the stove for them if you’re not sure if you left it on, etc. We didn’t live in the same household, but he was as close to living with us as housemates can be. During the height of the pandemic, he brought us a huge coffee roll from Kane’s just because, and even saved a pork bone for our dog, Bailey, even though, and these are his words, “I was never really into dogs.” Which if anyone knows me, that’s almost an instant write off, but Jeff got a pass. 🙂
He was a permanent fixture in that Somerville apartment. Next to Dave and Travis, he was the third longest living tenant there. We still head into Somerville from time to time (we moved to Worcester in July), and I cannot picture that city with out seeing Jeff, on his bike, or crossing the street after playing a game of softball.
I hate that he died by himself, and all I can think to say to him if I could is how sorry I am. Sorry that we weren’t there to help, and sorry we weren’t there to take care of each other like we always did. I know he’d just brush it off though and say it’s no big deal, throw up a peace sign and say see ya, “be good.”
Ooo and…I think it’d totally be a missed opportunity to mention the mans love for sarongs. hahahaha.