Years ago Gretchen gave Patrick a small ring, red and silver, which he wore often. When he passed away she asked me to send it back to her, which I did.
A week or two ago I was surprised to see it in my mailbox. She sent it to me, hoping that I’d wear it.
This I am doing, even here at the race track where a year ago (minus two days) I received the news of his end. Like the other little things of his that I keep close, it provides comfort–a wee bit of comfort–for the sadness.
I’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.