MY OTHER STORMY-WEATHER FRIEND

I met Pat a year after Margaret. It was 1981. I was 30 years old and painfully aware of it.

The YMCA was in new in town. It's temporary headquarters were located upstairs in a building overlooking Stuart's infamous Confusion Corner in Historic Downtown Stuart. However, from my desk, I had a magnificent view of the railroad track. I was a temporary employee in a 6 months long job.

Downstairs, on the other side, was a lovely dress shop called M'Lady Boutique. I had been inside a few times before. This time, there was a new owner; an attractive small-boned and petite lady with a tiny waist. Her name was Pat. Like Margaret, she was my mother's age, only far more youthful looking and always sharply dressed. We became fast friends.

Often, I spent the second half of my lunch hour in conversation with her. Pat was the best thing to come out of that job.

When my 6 months ended, I continued to walk over to the Prehistoric District (what I called it!) every Wednesday for lunch. Always, I invited Pat, but she couldn't leave.

Once, my mother wanted to tag along. We got into an argument. I told her vehemently, "I go there to get AWAY FROM YOU!" With a laugh, I repeated this to Pat.

A lone customer charged toward me. "Are YOU a mother?!" she snapped into my face.

"No! And I never want to be!" I snapped back.

"Well good!" The customer sniffed, and stormed out!

"What nerve!" Pat exclaimed. Then she turned to me and said, "You know what, I'm closing the shop. I'm having lunch with you today!"

The next time I saw her, Pat announced she was selling the place. "It's too confining." She sighed. "Plus there are no close places for my customers to park!" She stuffed a piece of paper into the side pocket of my purse. "It's my home phone no., stay in touch," she told me.

Pat lived in Port St. Lucie and I in Stuart, although I didn't drive, she'd pick me up and we'd go out to lunch; usually in Tequesta, Palm Beach Gardens, or West Palm Beach. "Your house is right on the way, so it's no trouble," she'd say.

I remember having so much fun at the big mall in W.P.B., we lost track of time. It was dark outside. "Don't you have to be getting home to fix dinner for your husband," I asked.

"Tony knows how to open a can of soup!" she replied. -- Pat was my kind of woman! Also we attended live musicals and went to dinner afterward. We enjoyed so many great times together!

1997 my father decided to sell our house due to the whopping property taxes and the change in the Capital Gains Tax law. We planned to move to another town. I was happy until I thought of Pat. Shortly after, Pat announced that she & Tony had put their home on the market. They decided to move to North Florida to be closer to their adult children. Their house sold before ours.

I wanted to move near Pat, but my father didn't care for the weather in North Florida. -- From his reaction, you'd have thought it was the North Pole!

We moved here, to Vero Beach. Pat was the 1st person to call! Soon, Saturday afternoon became our phone day. We took turns calling each other at 1:00 PM weekly. Always we'd talk for an hour or more.

After my father's death, I called Pat as I waited for the mortuary to pick-up the body.

Pat's husband died shortly after my father. Soon after, her son was killed in a car accident. This blow hit her harder than the death of her husband! "I had always counted on Danny to be here after Tony passed," she cried.

Often, we cried together! In the year following Dad's death, I lost both my dog & cat. Pat later lost 2 beloved dogs. We consoled each other.

Thru therapy, I was trying to conquer my anxiety attacks and drive a car. After several unnerving incidents, including getting lost in an isolated area, Pat was now the one afraid to drive. Her daughter had taken away her car for her own safety.

We acknowledged we would never see each other again in life. We would remain phone-friends until one of us was dead.

Around the later part of the last decade, I began to notice Pat becoming extremely forgetful. She retained little from our conversations. Constantly, I was repeating things and trying to jog her memory. --The signs were all too familiar.

I was not surprised when Pat announced that she was going into a Home for the elderly. Her daughter found one with a beautiful nature view. Pat wanted me to move in, too. I was a young 58 and felt I wasn't even close to ready for anything like that!

After her move, I hear nothing for awhile. Then I received a call from Pat in the middle of the week. I asked for the phone number there. Pat seemed confused. She said she'd have to call me back. I never heard from her again.

About a year later, I received a call from Pat's aggrieved and weeping daughter informing me she had passed on. I lost Pat a year after Margaret, the same order in which I met them. Pat survived the death decade by one year. Now everyone I had known from my parent's generation was gone.