It’s a typical busy holiday season. It’s cold outside. Christmas lights, decorations and wreaths everywhere. Walking into a busy restaurant I look around trying to find a table. My eyes land on the nice older couple above.

They are in their late 70s or early 80s, both wearing fun holiday themed hats. They sit, quietly. She scrolling on her phone. Him just sitting and enjoying the moment, lost in thought. Maybe he’s thinking of what he had for lunch. Maybe he’s thinking about Christmases past and missing someone. Maybe he’s just lost in thought, a mediation of where he’s at in life and where he’s been.

I’m wearing a green Boston Scally cap I bought last year for the holidays. I find a table to sit at and order my lunch. The couple finish their quiet moment and gather their things before leaving the restaurant.

As they pass, the man makes eye contact with me, nods his head and tips his hat to me, one Christmas hat to another. “I like your hat,” he says simply but in a deep authoritarian voice that reminds me of Morgan Freeman narrating The March of the Penguins. I reply with a grin, “I like your style.”

He asks if he can sit down for a moment as he pulls out a chair. Being the mild midwesterner I am, what else but to smile and nod, of course you can. Be my guest.

His name is George and her name is Helen. George and Helen. They are both 80 years old. They are here in Chicago visiting his kids for the holiday. George and Helen have been through some things as he pours forth with their life story. They met in high school, fell in love and married right after high school. He got a job at a local plant and they bought a small 2 room bedroom cottage with a loan from his parents.

They settled in but before they could have kids , he got drafted into the marines during Vietnam. He served in the motor pool overseas with his unit. He never saw live duty and returned home after his initial assignment was up. Helen waited patiently for him staying just with her family and friends as best she could. But she waited.

George returned home to see his wife and partner. But he wasn’t the same. His service had done some things to him. Helen tried to help and make him comfortable and relaxed. George couldn’t relax. It pained him but he got restless and told Helen he had to leave so he could keep moving and keep the things he had seen off his mind. Therapy wasn’t a thing back then.

George and Helen both moved on, met other people and had lives and children of their own. But they both kept the other in the back of their minds. And then one day after each of their partners had died, Helen picked up the phone and called her original love, the love of her life to see how he was doing. “I’m ok but it sure is lonely here. I miss you.”

Ten years later here they are wearing Christmas hats and looking quiet, happy and peaceful.

George says he has to go and stands up pushing the chair in like a gentleman would. He tips his hat to me one more time as do I.

We both wish the other a merry Christmas. I don’t think George needs the well wishes. I think he found what he was looking for all this time.

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”

TS Eliot, Little Gidding

“Had to find some higher ground
Had some fear to get around
You can’t say what you don’t know
Later on won’t work no more

Last time through, I hid my tracks
So well I could not get back
Yeah, my way was hard to find
Can’t sell your soul for peace of mind

Square one, my slate is clear
Rest your head on me, my dear
It took a world of trouble, it took a world of tears
It took a long time to get back here”

Square One, Highway Companion Tom Petty

By Ryan Hilligoss, January 9, 2024

After living 49 years and spending half of that building an adult life and all that entails, I am fully back to square one. It’s not a great feeling to live with everyday and try to sleep at night.

Both my mother and father are gone and my middle brother passed eight years ago. What was a family of five is down to two. When you are a kid, for most, you have grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. Then one by one the layers start to peel back and now I am the parent and there’s no more layers between here and the end of the road. All that is left is the time to make of it what I will on my own. I stand at a crossroads searching each direction for a sign or a tantalizing view. A whole universe made up of family, friends, ties, geographical locations has evaporated into the ether.

My father has been gone for roughly two months, and since then I’ve come to a realization of how much of my world was taken up by his. Robert Hilligoss was a one of a kind, a human force of nature. When he walked into the room, he had a presence that filled the room. His big personality was the center of attention. The rest of us were just ancillary, character actors filling roles in the back ground. For most of my life I was bit player, watching a professional work his magic, tall tales, jokes and good times.

I was married for nearly 20 years and helped raise two beautiful, great children, a nineteen year old son and seventeen year old daughter. Now I’m divorced and have been single for several years. My son will be leaving for college in the fall and my daughter will be graduating from high school in May.

This is a long winded way of saying the life I built up until now is gone. I will always be the father of my children and take care of them as long and in every way I can, being for them in every way possible. But there are parts of my life that are empty and hollow to say the least. I’m back at square one, my slate is clear. It’s time to rebuild and make the second half of life something full of sunshine, care and love. I hope to see you up the road while I figure it all out, hopefully with some help this time. Someone to help carry the weight.