Stonewall Farm

01/22/2026

The last time I sat at this bar, I had my Freddy across from me — those eyes I could fall into, that laugh that always pulled one out of me. Tonight, I sit in the same seat, at the same table, but the chair across from me is empty. And God, does it feel empty. I thought coming back to Puerto Rico might be easier… or at least gentler. But tonight I know the truth. It won’t ever be the same. This was Fred’s home long before it was ever mine. This island held him, shaped him, loved him.

The farm was ours. Puerto Rico was his. And he adored it. He dreamed of retiring here, of living out the rest of his days surrounded by this sun, this ocean, this air that felt like freedom to him.

I’m blessed with friends here who wrap me in more love and support than anyone could ask for. But even surrounded by all that kindness, something inside me still feels hollow. And it breaks my heart to admit this… but I think this will be my last trip here. There are just too many memories tucked into every corner of this island — beautiful, painful, unforgettable memories.

When Fred and I came to Puerto Rico, we found each other again. We fell back in love in that quiet, effortless way that feels like breathing. We slipped into each other’s arms as naturally as we did the very first time we met all those years ago. And now, sitting here alone in the bar we loved, staring at the chair where he should be… it’s a reminder that those moments live only in memory now.

My time here has come to an end — not in anger, not in bitterness, but in a soft, aching goodbye. I’m leaving with gratitude for every laugh, every kiss, every night we spent wrapped in this island’s warmth.

Farewell, my island of memories. Thank you for holding our love so gently. Thank you for giving us so much to carry with us, even now.

01/05/2026

01/05/2026

Boy do I miss his cooking! Ugh 😩

01/05/2026

Our special day! One I will never forget! ❤️

01/05/2026

Every day, I find myself stumbling onto something new that time had quietly tucked away on the shelves of the past. Old photographs of Fred — tiny snapshots of his childhood, his teenage years, his Provincetown days — pieces of a life that feel both impossibly distant and suddenly right in front of me.

It’s a strange, almost surreal feeling to look through them all. To see that familiar smile on a five‑year‑old boy… and then to see that same exact smile on the man I loved. That smile never changed. Not once. It carried the same warmth, the same spark, the same gentle mischief through every chapter of his life.

Finding these pieces of him hits me hard. It cracks me open. One moment I’m wiping away tears, the next I’m laughing out loud at some memory that rushes back like it never left. And every time I pick up a photo — every time my fingers brush the edges — I swear I can feel him behind me. Like he’s leaning over my shoulder, whispering the story of that moment, telling me where he was, what he was thinking, who he was becoming.

Some people might not understand that feeling. Some might think it’s strange, or unhealthy, or too much. But for me… this is comfort. This is healing. These moments stitch my heart back together, one fragile piece at a time.

With every picture my eyes land on, I find myself saying, What a life this man lived. What a journey he walked. And then I hear his voice — that phrase he told me almost every day:

“It’s not about the destination. It’s all about the journey.”

Fred had a way of making everything feel simple, even when life was anything but. He understood things most of us spend years trying to figure out. He carried knowledge, truth, and a heart so big it could warm anyone who crossed his path.

Man O’ man… what a life he led. And God, am I grateful I got to be a chapter in it. A chapter he cherished — just as deeply as I cherished him.

Forever in my heart Fred Pappalardo ❤️❤️❤️

05/29/2025

Got most of the veggie gardens planted throughout the week.
Cabbage,
Kale(3 different varieties),
Tomatoes,
Squash(summer and spaghetti),
Cucumbers,
Corn,
Swiss Chard(bright lights variety)
Potato’s,
And there’s a few more I need to pick up!
Hope this season turns out the way I invision it to. And i am with absolute certainty that Fred would be ecstatic and very pleased with What I’ve done so far. I know I am!!

12/21/2023

Merry Christmas
From
Stonewall Farm!!

10/29/2023

Rainy and chilly Sunday night dinner:
Beef short ribs slow cooked all day and served over polenta.

10/25/2023

10/23/2023

I bought my first home when I was 24 years old, and since then have carried a mortgage on every home I have lived in.
Finally, after all these years of monthly mortgage payments, we officially can say that we own our own home.
Stonewall farm is ours!