There was a line from the great 1970 film I Never Sang For My Father that captures what this writer is experiencing at this moment. That powerful and timeless sentence is “Death does not end a relationship.” So it is with the true love of my life, Stacy Lynn, who passed a week ago today.

To live for 34 years with someone who you shared your dreams, nightmares and your daily ‘give and takes’ must count for something. Stacy Lynn was the Rock for me. The anchor that held me from running away from the many challenges that, until her, I easily avoided. Her mere physical and emotional presence told me, “You can be loved.” Funny and ironic as it may seem, I knew that I did the same for her. We connected, probably from the unfinished business of a previous life we recognized each other from. I had a famous clairvoyant friend of mine tell me that in one of the many readings I had with her. Stacy and I met from a personal newspaper ad of mine that she answered and I knew it that first date. I believe she did too.

During all those years together, looking back I can now say that my poor dear was most likely suffering from depression. I’m not a psychiatrist but the indications are there that Stacy must have been fighting this battle for so long. It kept her from truly expressing all the joy and positive energy that was instilled deep inside her psyche. My clairvoyant friend mystically put it that Stacy was ‘An angel that lost her wings.’ And my sweetheart was as great an angel as one could see! She cared about ‘All creatures big and small’. All the neighborhood dogs of all shapes and sizes and breeds would run to her when we walked together. As her illness tortured her for those eight months Stacy would go and sit outside by our door and greet those furry friends of hers, one by one, with a bag of treats in her hand. Our own two little kittens, as we called our 11 year old cats, would sit by the window wondering why ‘ Mommy’ was forgetting them. Of course she never did, our two angels were loved 24/7 by her since we adopted them as three month olds.

I always felt that Stacy had her doubts, perhaps due to her depression, if I really truly loved her. Many times she would offer that I gave more attention to my sons’ wellbeing than to hers. I knew, from within my entire consciousness, that she had become the paramount person in my life. Of course, I pined after my two sons, one who hadn’t contacted me in 10 years for no reason either she or I could comprehend; and the other who has a severe mental condition for decades. No, as much as I wanted and needed both my sons’ love and attention, Stacy was first in line for my caring and concerns for her protection and wellbeing. As far as I was concerned, I always knew that Stacy truly loved me and never shied away from making sure that my needs and desires came first over even hers. She is special.

Validation comes in strange ways. Whatever doubts she may have had all those many years about my true feelings about and towards her, the eight months of her terrible and painful illness erased that. It did take time, because during the first and middle stages of her demise Stacy still made those comments doubting  what I felt and how much I did. I ignored them, knowing that she was afraid of death, and continued to do my best to make her comfortable. As the end of her physical presence was quickly upon us both, I called the hospice care center asking them to tell her that I loved her and was on my way. I rushed over there with a picture of the two of us from some thirty years ago. In her room, as the nurse told me that Stacy was ready to go, I placed the picture by her open eyes. She made or attempted to make a sound as her mouth moved a bit, and I held her hand and whispered sweet words of mystical confidence to her. I knew then, as I kissed her hand and then her forehead as she said goodbye. I knew or should I say I know how deeply she loves me. The nurse gave me the sad news and added “She waited for you to come, Philip.”  Death does NOT end a relationship. Isn’t that correct my love?

PA Farruggio
April 2026