St. Patrick's Day

St. Patrick's Day has become something of an Unholy Day of Obligation, as folks emerge from the chilly muck of March to honor the patron saint of beer drinking. Turns out he did not bring Christianity to Ireland back in the 5th century, but he was instrumental in establishing the church there. He's also the patron saint of "engineers, the dispossessed, and Nigeria", beer drinkers all, I presume.
But this blog is more about personal history. So I decided to let everyone know about it now, as it marks a number of different moments in our lives...
St. Patrick's Day fell on a Sunday 5 years ago, and it was the last time we were all together with dad (see photo), who would pass away the following Thursday on March 21st. It was a good time, as we drank some Jameson's and beer, listened and even danced to some Celtic music. It was a chilly day, so I had a fire on as dad sat there in his down jacket, as anything below 80 degrees was chilly to him. He collapsed the following Thursday in front of the apartment as Ken pulled up to take him to see the doctor.
I looked back since Ken's passing on just when I may have noticed the earliest signs of trouble, and it finally came to me. St. Patrick's Day '04. He met the three of us as we went for the St. Pat's run with a runner's club in Westchester. Who could turn down the free Jameson's? Only much later a symptom that became obvious manifested itself to me for the 1st time. It just struck me as a bit odd then, and it was the fact the Ken just stood in one spot for over an hour without moving, though otherwise enjoying himself. Looking at his last Mexico cave diving trip photos he took a month or so later, there were a large number of shots taken from one spot, and they were clearly not his usual quality. Ken knew he was ill far earlier than he let on.

Here comes March

Of course it's great when March arrives, as the weather finally starts to do an about face. St. Patrick's Day, now being marketed as St. Patrick's Season by greedy beer merchants, is just a few weeks away.
Perhaps in another 5 or 10 years....no... March 21st will never stop haunting me. Even the folks at Fullerton Funeral Home in Baldwin, NY, were dumbstruck when I told them Ken passed away on the same day as dad. I assumed that having run the funeral home for so many years, they had heard of such 'coincidences' before. It wasn't coincidence, though. Ken simply decided to die that day.
I forgot to tell them that he lived only 19 days longer than mom. (if you take away the last 2 weeks of her life when she was in a coma, then their life spans were identical) If I had reminded them of her, they would have remembered her, as her wake was at Fullerton, too. I had to chase the paparazzi off the steps of St. Christopher's next door.
Perhaps I was distracted by Mr. Fullerton's fate, as I sat down with him in December, but suddenly died before my second visit a few weeks later...
I wasn't totally surprised once Ken had survived to March. I actually expected it. He was a human time keeping machine, always keenly aware of its passing. He loved watches and time pieces of all kinds. Clocks and watches (mantle clocks, clock radios, diving watches) were given as Xmas gifts. He would often stare at the hands on his watch moving, feeling mystified, disturbed, perhaps terrified. He bought himself one of those Pierce Brosnan diving watches, being a huge 007 fan as well as a passionate diver. (Why do you think he majored in Russian and diving? Thunderball!)
It also made him very grateful for every day. After years of despising the winter months, he changed enough to advise me, "Never wish away time."
March 21st, the Vernal Equinox, the last day of winter, the first day of spring, sunrise at the North Pole, sunset at the South Pole...swiftly flow the years...
The season is already known as the cruelest since it "mixes memory with desire". How much more bittersweet now.