Missing Pat

When I was growing up, I had a best friend, her name was Monica.  We met in first grade, and have been close ever since.  Her brother, Mike, was my brother's best friend.  Our parents liked each other a lot.  Over the years growing up, they came on vacation with us sometimes.  I was invited to their big family gatherings and Monica was invited to ours.  I really considered her the sister I never had, and looked on her parents as my second parents.

Eight years ago this week, her brother Mike had a massive heart attack, and he died eight years ago today.  I still think of him often, especially around this time of year.  And last night Monica and Mike's father passed away.  He has been in failing health for some time, and had recently been discharged from the hospital to the local rehab facility.  I visited him Wednesday and thought he looked awful, but he's rallied before.

This is so sad.  It's a part of life, I know, and his passing was as peaceful as possible.  I will miss him, and I hurt for his family.  He was one of the best people I have ever known.


  1. It is what we're dealing with at this stage of our lives. And I hate it.


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