Just came in from spending two hours at Mariano Park. Gorgeous day. My kind of weather, about 65 in the shade.
Mariano Park is located in what is referred to as, “The Viagra Triangle”. It’s where State meets Rush on the Gold Coast of Chicago. Sitting in the park I can see Gibson’s, Tavern On Rush, Carmine’s, Nico’s and Dublin’s, with Blue Agave, Luxbar and The Original Pancake House just steps away.
I decided to spend a couple nights at our apartment in the city. It was our condo, but went through a thing called a deconversion. We got paid for our unit and now I am renting for a year. Our plan was to enjoy the city for a year before giving it up. That hasn’t worked out so well.
Pat never called it our condo. She only referred to it as “My happy place!”
It’s not nearly as happy anymore. As I type that, I know Pat is yelling for me to get on with it. Move forward. Stop moping.
It’s so difficult. We would sit in the park for hours, people watching, enjoying hot tea or chocolate in the fall and spring and gelato in the summer. I had some gelato today and looked at the bench we would often sit in as we watched the crazies walk by, the neighborhood dogs being walked by their owners, looking for food or a place to pee or poop.
It’s just not the same. It will never be the same.
It has been a little more than eight months since Pat left us. Before she did, she would ask me how I was doing and I always gave her the standard, I’m doing ok. Then one day, I told her the truth. I was in a state of “constant sadness”. Things were going in the wrong direction and we knew the end was near. She was sad. Me, too.
Sitting in the park, I realized how many good times we had just sitting there, together, watching the world go by, hoping some of our problems would get better.
She LOVED her Happy Place. It was her chance to get away from all her worries and concerns and enjoy all the things we had worked for and accomplished and then got the condo so we could get away from everything. We were always happy down here.
Happy. That is a word I have been thinking a lot about. Will I ever be truly happy again? I don’t mean happy because I won a bet or did a good show or my favorite team won a game. I mean happy like Pat and I were when things were good. Before the cancers. Before both of our Illnesses.
If so, how will I recognize it? How will I know?
I am not expecting it or waiting for it. I am going day to day, looking for that chance to travel a bit and see friends. Get out and try to enjoy the many friends that have been there for both of us and especially me since my loss.
Friends, true friends, are always there for you. You can pick up the phone and call them whenever, just because you need someone to talk to. Not because you are sad or depressed, but just because you get tired of talking to yourself.
I know Pat is always there, watching over me and pissed that I actually made pot roast in the crock pot after I told her every time she made it that I never liked pot roast. What can I say. I’m trying new things.
Mariano Park is located in what is referred to as, “The Viagra Triangle”. It’s where State meets Rush on the Gold Coast of Chicago. Sitting in the park I can see Gibson’s, Tavern On Rush, Carmine’s, Nico’s and Dublin’s, with Blue Agave, Luxbar and The Original Pancake House just steps away.
I decided to spend a couple nights at our apartment in the city. It was our condo, but went through a thing called a deconversion. We got paid for our unit and now I am renting for a year. Our plan was to enjoy the city for a year before giving it up. That hasn’t worked out so well.
Pat never called it our condo. She only referred to it as “My happy place!”
It’s not nearly as happy anymore. As I type that, I know Pat is yelling for me to get on with it. Move forward. Stop moping.
It’s so difficult. We would sit in the park for hours, people watching, enjoying hot tea or chocolate in the fall and spring and gelato in the summer. I had some gelato today and looked at the bench we would often sit in as we watched the crazies walk by, the neighborhood dogs being walked by their owners, looking for food or a place to pee or poop.
It’s just not the same. It will never be the same.
It has been a little more than eight months since Pat left us. Before she did, she would ask me how I was doing and I always gave her the standard, I’m doing ok. Then one day, I told her the truth. I was in a state of “constant sadness”. Things were going in the wrong direction and we knew the end was near. She was sad. Me, too.
Sitting in the park, I realized how many good times we had just sitting there, together, watching the world go by, hoping some of our problems would get better.
She LOVED her Happy Place. It was her chance to get away from all her worries and concerns and enjoy all the things we had worked for and accomplished and then got the condo so we could get away from everything. We were always happy down here.
Happy. That is a word I have been thinking a lot about. Will I ever be truly happy again? I don’t mean happy because I won a bet or did a good show or my favorite team won a game. I mean happy like Pat and I were when things were good. Before the cancers. Before both of our Illnesses.
If so, how will I recognize it? How will I know?
I am not expecting it or waiting for it. I am going day to day, looking for that chance to travel a bit and see friends. Get out and try to enjoy the many friends that have been there for both of us and especially me since my loss.
Friends, true friends, are always there for you. You can pick up the phone and call them whenever, just because you need someone to talk to. Not because you are sad or depressed, but just because you get tired of talking to yourself.
I know Pat is always there, watching over me and pissed that I actually made pot roast in the crock pot after I told her every time she made it that I never liked pot roast. What can I say. I’m trying new things.
Fred, this is beautifully written and selflessly shared. Thank you so much for your honesty about life and grief and sadness. I am so sorry for this loss of your best friend and soul mate. I didn’t know you and Pat very well as a couple, (although she was always so genuinely kind :) but in your words and posts since her passing, it is clear how rare and special your marriage and love for Pat was and still is. Sharing the way you are bravely facing your grief is no doubt bringing comfort to others who feel the same, others who feel pressured to hide their feelings or adhere to a certain timeline. Thank you for helping others feel ok about saying they are not ok and could use a friend or a person to talk to. I have learned through experience that it takes a whole lot of strength to lean on others and ask for help. The more we do, the more we learn, and maybe, the happier we all are for it. I’m always up for a coffee if you are ever around Oak Park. Take care :)
ReplyDeleteHow great that you have these wonderful memories of your Happy Place. I know it's bittersweet yet how empty your life may have been without those moments to reflect back on despite the pain that comes with such a loss. Your journey through the grieving process is a reminder of just how precious each day is with your loved one. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and pictures.
ReplyDeleteAt least you will always have the memories.
ReplyDelete