A Fall Like No Other

Hello, fabulous fall! I've been waiting for what seems like forever for you. You're finally here, and that's all that matters. Happy fall, friends. Yes, to jacket weather!

I patiently promise to enjoy this beautiful season. Although, I will quietly be counting down the days to my very favorite time of year... WINTER. Oh, how I love you so.

I am writing the latter with a heavy heart because when I write about winter and snow (too early) on my Facebook page, I expect to get a couple of playful, and maybe not so playful, gruff responses from a certain friend.  But that’s not going to happen anymore because that special person died last year from COVID.  Jennifer, a friend and family member from my Concerted Care Group days was intense and fierce, but also warm, kind, funny and a hard worker.  She was caring, nurturing, too.  I liked when she talked about her nephew because he was her world, and her smile was the biggest it could ever be.  I don’t think I ever acknowledged her death until now, because I just didn’t want to believe it was real.  I am happy we met, and even happier for the comradery.  You are missed, my friend.  (CCG was a special time in my life, never to be forgotten, never to be duplicated.  That’s some special love.)

There is another death that took me by surprise.  Back in the day, during the winter and spring months, I would attend a Wednesday midday concert series at a church in Mount Vernon.  That was an awesome series of outstanding classical talent.

I met this guy Bob, who was easy to talk to, as were his friends.  When I saw him, I was guaranteed a smile and a conversation.  Brief as they were, they were meaningful.  I remember him mentioning his wife, Mabel.  I would always think to myself… Who is this, Mabel?  I need to meet her!  It would take a while before we met, but we did become friends via Facebook.  Ultimately, I met Mabel in person.  It was wintertime.  Just as I was leaving a local restaurant, she was coming in.  She said, "You’re, Paul!"  I immediately knew who she was.  We hugged, and it was really nice.  

As time passed, I would occasionally see Bob & Mabel out and about walking through our shared neighborhood.  They always smiled and said hello in the most thoughtful way.  That’s something the world needs more of – genuine, thoughtful greetings (you know, the "old world stuff").

Pre-pandemic: On rare occasions, I would walk through the main lobby of the Wilmer Eye Institute, where I worked at Hopkins (it was the easiest way to get to my office).  I was running a little late this particular morning.  I saw Bob & Mabel in the waiting area, and knew I had to go over and say, hello.  Like so many times before, Bob would have a smile on his face, and Mabel – I remember exactly what she said and did… "Let me stand up. I need to give you a hug."  Let me tell you, that was a good hug.  What she didn’t know, I needed that hug in the worst way because the week before I was hospitalized and a few days before, I was in the emergency room because of my heart.

When I got to my office, I put my coat on the coatrack, turned on my computer, and sat in my chair and immediately began to sob.  Mabel’s hug carried a lot of power because after a horrible week of unhealthy news, I didn’t know I needed a hug.  (In case you don’t know, hugs are medicine.  Depending on the person, the dose can be strong.)

Just recently, Bob died from COVID.  Every day I would peruse Mabel’s Facebook page to read the loving and kind words of their friends.  Bob & Mabel, one of the many powerhouse couples walking the earth spreading joy, happiness and love.

I am incredibly saddened by Bob’s passing, but from what I read and know, he leaves a legacy of purpose and kindness behind, and with fond memories, Bob lives on.  Mabel has done her own memorization by posting photos of their life, adding words to tell a story for the ages.  It warms my heart to see this, it’s even more meaningful because I feel it.  Dearest Mabel, I haven’t communicated this to you, but you’ve in my thoughts.  The next time we see each other, I’ll be sure to give you a big hug.  (There are positive sides to Facebook.  It’s all in how you use it, as Mabel and I prove.)

For those who are curious about my heart, it’s fine.  Five years, lots of pills, a few procedures and one major surgery later and just like that, all is back to normal (I probably shouldn’t say normal because there is nothing normal about me, and I like that, and so do my friends).

The photo in this post I snapped last month, and it’s a meaningful one.  I was sitting, waiting for my Cardiac Electrophysiologist to see me.  I sat there waiting for 30 minutes, but that’s okay because he is worth waiting for.  He came in, examined me and said, "I don’t need to see you anymore.  Our work is done.  No more pills.  No more procedures.  Go live your life."

This particular fall is more meaningful than I thought it could ever be.  People are vaccinated or getting vaccinated, which means more freedom and I am not living every day thinking it will be my last.  People like Jennifer and Bob, they don’t die in vain.  They are reminders, to make each and every day count. – paerki