It was St. Patrick’s Day 2020. Just a few days earlier, the World Health Organization had declared the COVID-19 virus a global pandemic. Here in New York City, our world was shutting down. Schools and churches were closing. Offices were converting to a work-from-home model. And, the restaurants were closed for indoor dining. Luckily, the restaurants were allowed to open for take-out meals.

Jody and I often celebrated St. Patrick’s Day at Coogan’s, a beloved Irish pub and restaurant in the Washington Heights neighborhood where we lived. We were disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to join the shenanigans at Coogan’s — the singing of traditional Irish ballads and the dancing of Irish jigs performed by diners who were well lubricated with some Guinness or Harp’s. We were happy to see that we could still order our St. Patrick’s Day meals even if we had to eat them at home.

I had called in our order the day before. Now, late in the afternoon on the 17th, I jumped on the bus and headed off to pick up our feast. Thinking back, I’m amazed. We weren’t yet accustomed to face masks and social distancing and the other hallmarks of our lockdown reality. Our lives continued like they always had. I arrived at Coogan’s and paid for our meals. I felt a sense of sadness as I looked around. This gathering place, normally bustling, noisy and full of fun, was shockingly quiet. All the tables and chairs were empty as if there was a banquet for ghosts in progress.

Back home, I spread out the feast. There were sizeable portions of lean corned beef, with boiled potatoes, and steamed cabbage. There was also a loaf of Irish soda bread still warm from the oven. We were about to eat when Jody said, “We should have some beer.” I looked in the back of the refrigerator and found two bottles of Guinness forgotten, most likely, since last St. Patrick’s Day. I poured them into a couple of glasses and headed back to the table.

We toasted the day and offered a prayer that this invisible killer would soon be contained. We feasted on that wonderful dinner enjoying every mouthful as if it were our last one.

Sadly, thirty-three days later that novel coronavirus would steal Jody away from me. Now I am left with the memory of our last St. Patrick’s Day, the last time we were able to celebrate together.