A Valentine Message From Above?

I don't usually put a lot of stock into the supernatural or read many signs into things. For example, the folklore that a visit from a cardinal represents a sign from a loved one. It's a nice sentiment, and yes, when I see cardinals in my backyard, I tend to think of those who have gone before me because of that bit of folklore. Yet, I don't tend to take it much more beyond that.  Yet, if my late wife Kathy ever sent me a sign from the great beyond, it'd be the Facebook post that slid into my feed about 30 minutes ago.

I belong to various nostalgia and history Facebook groups, one of which is called Vanished Chicagoland, run by a southside guy my age named Pete Kastanes. Anyway, a fellow member posted the following. It was just text with a black background, "Remember THE SPAGHETTI WAREHOUSE?"

If you're unfamiliar with Spaghetti Warehouse, there's a good chance you might be. It is an Italian restaurant chain. It was never huge, but it used to have a larger footprint than the remaining five locations. The menu was similar to Olive Garden's. However, the portions were bigger, the prices more affordable, and the restaurant was way more kitschy than Olive Garden.

Each restaurant had a trolly you could eat in as part of the decor, and vintage advertising and "vintage" chandeliers tended to give it its look. It was the kind of place my wife and I immediately fell in love with. Great comfort food, great atmosphere, affordable. It quickly became our place, and we dined there so much that we even had a favorite waitress, and we would ask to sit in her section if she was working.

Anyway, we dined there regularly until they closed. When we found ourselves in Texas, we found an open location and made it a point to go every time we were in the Plano, Texas, area until it closed, too. I also guarantee we ate there several times around Valentine's Day, if not on Valentine's Day.

I don't know if our loved ones can communicate with us from above, but if they can, this is the sign Kathy would send me. She'd probably figure (and be wrong) that a cardinal would be lost on me. Yet, a Facebook post about our favorite restaurant—one where we made many happy memories and celebrated new jobs, promotions, birthdays, and our love—yeah, she'd figure I'd get that.

It was the perfect Valentine, whether sent from above or just because Facebook's Alga rhythm knows we liked Spaghetti Warehouse. Regardless, it made me pause, smile, and enjoy good memories. That's priceless.

Author's Note: Last August, I wrote a remembrance of my wife, Kathy, and talked about some of the stuff I went through during and immediately after her illness and passing. you can read that here if you'd like.