Knowing that there is a maximum of 366 days in a year, it’s natural that given enough time there would be overlaps in events, and so there are. For example, my first day as a racetrack volunteer happened to fall on Gretchen’s birthday. On the fifth anniversary of my dad John’s death–a personal low in my professional career as well–my world turned incredibly positive when someone smart and beautiful invited me into her life, although (as it turned out) only for a few short months.
More relevant to this web site, it was on the anniversary of Patrick’s death that I became involved with someone very special.
Instead of muttering about coincidence, one could connect imaginary dots, draw deep conclusions about the cycles of death and life, of sorrow and joy, of wounds and healing. Although the relationship failed like all the others–or maybe failed differently from all the others–those cycles of life, of joy, and of healing remained, and I am thankful for those times we shared.
I don’t subscribe to fate–it takes away choice and responsibility–but our special moments leave me grateful even if initiated on a coincidental date. Together we met old friends and made new ones; we traveled; we shared holidays with family; we stood together beside a hospital bed and grieved; and we genuinely enjoyed life in one another’s company.
It wasn’t fate, it wasn’t destiny, just as it wasn’t fate or destiny that it would end. Instead, our connection just happened to fall on a significant anniversary, the anniversary of Patrick’s death. Nonetheless, it took a bit of the sting out of that day, and the days that followed.
I’m delighted at the coincidence.
I’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.