A Moving Meeting

So Saturday morning, Jonathan was all set to come to the Gramercy Park Hotel, have a bellman grant him and D2 access to the Park, and then pop the question. But, alas, it was wet out, and the Park closes when it's wet.

So Barry, Donna, Wifey, and I were scrambling to find alternatives for Jonathan. Things turned out fine -- he took her to Washington Square Park, but before then there was a bit of , as my late friend used to say, tensosity.

A gentleman overheard the conversation, and politely chimed in that he had an idea. He suggested Jonathan might propose at the National Arts Building on the North side of the park, a famous space where Woody Allen shot many of his classic NYC scenes.

We ended up walking to the corner so that the fellow, who introduced himself as Alan, could point out the building.  He was walking an adorable little dog. He lived in a building right next to the park, he said, and asked where we were all from.

We told him Miami, and he said he spends his winters in Longboat Key, and was in the City for a very bad reason.

We all had an instant connection with him. He was so smart and kind. Before we knew it, he was telling us about his grown kids, a radiologist, and a son who was a lawyer, Alan was a retired CPA and business consultant. He asked about us, and thought my name was familiar -- he had some very rich Miami clients. I joked that I didn't swim in those ponds...

Eventually it came out that the bad reason he was in NYC had three words: Memorial Sloan Kettering. His beloved wife, Barbara, was there. She was terminally ill with pancreatic cancer.

Barry, Donna, Wifey and I were shocked and saddened. I launched into my "well, hopefully she's on the right side of that bell curve," but Alan waved me off. It was truly the end. He had cried his eyes out, he said, and was just hoping she would make it another 10 days for his granddaughter's Bat Mitzvah. She wouldn't be able to attend, but knowing about it would bring Barbara joy.

Barry, who deals with palliative care, offered better advice -- about how it was critical to keep patients like Alan's wife comfortable and pain free. Alan said he understood, and was insuring that very thing.

We parted, and told Alan we would keep him in our thoughts. He was truly happy for our D2 and Jonathan, and wished them all the happiness in the world.

Alan left with his dog, and we four retreated out of the cool drizzle to the GH Hotel lobby. It struck us how we had seen the very cycle of life. One young woman about to embark on the beginning of married life, and another, somehow not a stranger though we had never met, was at the end of her time.

Donna observed that our meeting was bashert -- destined. She noted how Alan really needed to share his story with people, and at the same time offer help to a young couple starting out.

Wifey, ever the practical one, immediately thought Alan ought to meet our friend Diane, a very eligible divorcee.  Of course, Barry found great black humor in that -- poor Alan's wife was still alive, and Wifey was already replacing her. But Wifey said no, not right away, maybe in a year...

And, true to Wifey form, she looked Alan up, and found he indeed lived in a luxury condo on Longboat Key, and that he and Barbara were very active in their local synagogue.

Well, the afternoon unfolded joyously. We partied for the rest of the day, and Sunday Jonathan hosted a lovely brunch.

As we Ubered from the hotel to West 11th Street, the suv stopped, and sure enough, there was Alan walking his dog. I put down the window, and shouted out to him. He smiled, and asked "How did it go???!!!" I told him it went well, and we would think of him, and...who knows -- maybe cross paths again.

I truly hope we do. We all dug him right away, and he is now a part of a sacred weekend in my family's history.

In the mean time, I wish Alan peace as he deals with the end of life of his beloved Barbara.