Spring Musings

One of the things we learned very quickly when we landed here in the Lowcountry was how beautiful the weather can be. We also learned there are other days as well. The incredibly oppressive humidity when the Stephen King-like “dome” descends and hovers for months on end. The length of hurricane season, which, much to my surprise, is longer and just as unpredictable as snow season was back in the Northeast.
Currently, however, we have not reached those Southern “winter” days. We are in that golden season when it is delightful to take long walks, the mornings and evenings are crisp, and the sunsets serve as a reminder of why this area is so highly valued.

It was during one of these recent evenings that I was taken back in time a few years, running the gamut from broadly smiling to having tears leak from my eyes.

Easter Sunday 2020 had just ended, but it was not a normal Easter by any means. We were just learning about the seriousness of COVID-19, at that time often referred to simply as the coronavirus. The world had largely shut down, and while the weather was, as is the case in Connecticut during April, becoming very nice, we were all worried about even venturing outside the home.

I was a fairly serious runner at that time, but even that was difficult. We were encouraged to wear a mask while running, even alone and outdoors, which made it uncomfortable to breathe easily. With that in mind, I spent more time on the treadmill that had always served me well during the icy winters. I had just finished a 5-mile “jaunt” on the treadmill when, upon leaving the room, I saw an email that read simply, “sad news.”

That moment remains frozen in my memory. It was from one of my oldest friends, John, writing to tell me that our friend Silvio had suddenly and unexpectedly died on Easter Sunday.

We were a small group of friends for more than 60 years. Our lives had taken different paths, but whenever we managed to be in the same place at the same time, it was as if we had never been apart. Silvio and I lived closest to each other in Connecticut. We exchanged occasional texts, always promising to get together soon, but each time we made tentative plans, life got in the way.

Our last exchange was March 25, 2020. He wrote: “Hope all is well with you and your family. This is weird stuff. Let’s get together after this ends.” I replied: “Never in my life would I have believed we would be living in a world like this. We are well, thank you. Yes, we finally need to get together after all this.” He responded: “Wow, time has flown. My 50th high school reunion has been canceled. Stay well, my old friend.” I wrote back: “Ours is not supposed to happen until October, so it’s still on for the moment, but who knows. You guys stay safe as well. It’s really good hearing from you. Here’s my cell. Store it away somewhere in case you need it.” His final reply: “Here’s mine.”

As the sun was setting the other evening, I looked up, sipped my drink and smiled at the years, laughs, mishaps and tears we shared. He would have loved that sunset.

We’ll let Dan Fogelberg play us out with lines from his song “Ghosts”:

Kevin Fitzpatrick is a retired teacher who, along with his wife Sue (also a retired teacher) is enjoying exploring life in the Lowcountry and all it has to offer.