Patti

The logical way to overcome sadness is to once again achieve happiness. When I wrote my blog piece a year ago about eventually seeking a woman of my age, I was not asking for anyone to replace Annie. I was asking for another opportunity to love and be loved by a woman of mature age. I specified that I was not interested in booty-calls or one-night-stands, and that I had no timeframe-only a mind-set.

(https://markyswrite.blogspot.com/2020/03/mature-women-only-need-apply.html)

For seven-and-a-half years Annie fought a war she knew she could not win. What she gained through her efforts was time, enough to see the birth of her first grandchild. Side-by-side Annie and I battled together, but when she slipped away, that savage kick to my solar plexus still flattened me.

You can know it’s coming and you can prepare for it, but the pain is still going to hit you like a logging truck. Getting knocked down, run over and dragged along by a logging truck is a downer, but if you survive the original hit, then there is nowhere to go but up.

My blog piece not only produced a response from someone I did not know, it appeared right away. The writer identified herself as Pat, told me she lived back East and said she was retired from 35 years of teaching high school biology and anatomy. Pat mentioned she had been divorced for fourteen years, after a 28-year-long marriage, and if I wanted to communicate with her, I should hit her up with an email. 

I was surprised to get any response, and my reaction was automatic. I wrote a brief, ten thousand word summary of myself, for the simple reason that Pat had reached out to me and I was lonely.

What struck me immediately were the similarities between us. We were only a year apart in age, both retired teachers, both single and both on the same page politically. Additionally, both of us had bought a piece of property and either built or had built, a multi-storied home on a mountain.

Ironically, at precisely the same time that Patti and I were getting acquainted, the pandemic surfaced. I posted my blog piece on March 10th; the NBA shelved its season on the 12th, and Patti’s initial response came the following day. As the rest of the world was required to push away, Patti and I drew together.

My sorrow never vacated the premises, so much as that icy feeling of loss began to defrost in the warmth of a friend, newly gained. Just as winter evolved into spring, my own outlook on life took on a rejuvenated approach, as my friendship with Patti allowed me to know that the worst was over. I knew the worst was over because the icepick had been removed from my heart.

I would never forget Annie, but I had clawed my way back out of the abyss, thanks to Patti. From the beginning of our correspondence, we established that neither of us was capable of pulling up roots and relocating, and I had made it clear that I was not interested in doing the casual approach to any relationship. 

But I also made it clear to Patti that I valued our friendship beyond measure for the simple reason that I was back on flat land and squarely on my feet. I knew this because the memories of Annie that permeated my existence, no longer brought me the pain of separation but, rather, the joy of the decades we spent together. 

This paradigm shift allowed me to hurtle myself into all of those endeavors I prattled on about a few days ago, in “Bozos on the Bus.”

(https://markyswrite.blogspot.com/2021/03/bozos-on-bus.html)

I was capable of doing this because Patti reached out to me and accomplished what no one else did, and I can never forget that. I shall cherish our friendship always.