[Greg (R) and myself on some forgotten peak in the Keene Valley Region of the Adirondacks. NY. Date: 1970’s. Photo is mine.]

It’s coming up on a year now since you left me on the trail. You needed to climb one more mountain…at the time, I didn’t want another summit, but you had other thoughts.

“One more,” you said.

“Okay, but I need a rest. I like this little spot. There’s a brook over there where I can drink the cool, clear ‘whiskey’ of the Highlands. You go on, buddy. I’ll catch up to you later. I won’t be that long,” I said.

I waited. I repacked my rucksack and set off to follow you, but a late afternoon fog rolled in making my progress difficult. I went back to the place where we parted.

You never came back. Why? I know now the why, but I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you never said: “See you later, pal.”

Maybe you knew something about the path ahead that I didn’t.

~ ~ ~

I have a few things to tell you. Several years ago you and your beloved Patti took a trip to the land of your ancestors, Italy. Well, finally, Mariam and I are here. At the moment we are ensconced in Venice. It’s a glorious morning. We’ll be heading to St. Mark’s Piazza soon. I heard the 8:00 am bells toll a short time ago. Pigeons fly about outside our window.

You may be interested in knowing this: Several months ago, Mariam and I visited your grave at St. Patrick’s Cemetery. Patti has done a superb job at choosing a beautiful stone for you. We left three flowers there. One for you, one for Patti and one from Mariam and myself. And it was the kind of day you would have loved. A fresh spring breeze of cool valley air blew across the fields and through the cemetery. Thankfully for us the snow was gone. Not something you’d like, since you always claimed you loved snow…the more the better.

Your beloved Yankees are in last place right now, but you probably already know that.

~ ~ ~

I would have loved taking you to Ireland where my father’s side of the family originated from. I could have shown you some rather unique pubs. But it can’t happen now.

Patti tells me that your favorite place in Italy was Capri. So I guess that’s the best that can be hoped for. I’m not a very religious guy but it gives me a certain comfort to think (dream) that someday you will meet me at a taverna in Capri for a cold Birra Moretti or two.

Then we will fly like the angels we are to Dublin and tap two pints of Guinness together (to our health). Then we’ll cross the ‘hapenny’ bridge and do it again.

Then we will fly like the angels we are to an undiscovered place with undiscovered trails and unclimbed peaks and we will watch the next several zillion sunsets, telling each other things true and untrue.

Just like we used to do…back in the day.

Does it take a ‘man’ to tell another man how much he is loved? You’ve been many things to me, Greg, over the years. A friend seems too thin a word to use here. I’m not alone in saying that I miss you very much. I wish we could sit and talk…just talk…once again.

Just like we used to do…back in the day.

I’m kind of lost without you…

Wherever you are, I remain,

your best friend, Pat