I'll always remember Patrick.
Condolences to Pat, Diane and the Fleming family.
Condolences to Pat, Diane and the Fleming family.
Sincere Condolences To Pat Fleming And Family.
- Thread starter eddiethelock
- Start date
I've had this https://www.gigtown.com/artists/patrick-fleming playing in the background as I work this morning. He was a very talented guy.
God Speed, Patrick!
God Speed, Patrick!
Thanks for that.. a great video
So sorry to hear this. My heart felt condolences and sympathy to the Fleming family.
Very Sorry for Pat and his family, Depression is an enormous struggle for anyone. I have seen it close up for years and it is devastating what it can do to the person suffering and their family.. Just horrible to have lost a child to it, my condolences to them all...
Unimaginable.
RIP, young man.
Condolences to the Fleming family and friends.
best,
brian kc
RIP, young man.
Condolences to the Fleming family and friends.
best,
brian kc
Thought it was fitting to post this from a facebook post by a friend of Patrick..(thank you Inez)
The first time I saw
Patrick Fleming
, he "ruined" my night. I had come into Fadó for a quiet pint or six on a Friday night. When I got to the door there was a cover.
Me: What do you mean a cover? Why is there a cover?
Bouncer: Mysterious Ways is on tonight.
Me: WTF is Mysterious Ways?
Bouncer: They’re a U2 cover band.
Me: JFC. I have to get subjected to U2 AND pay a premium to do so?
I paid, of course, because it wasn’t the kind of night where I was in the mood to say “screw it” and go down the OCH rabbit hole across the street.
When I got inside it was packed. I scanned the room. There were throngs of “middle aged women” (who in retrospect were probably around the same age I am now, but everyone seems old when you’re 21) pressed against the indoor stage screaming. Like the Beatles stepping off the plane in America for the first time screaming.
A bra was thrown. I was simultaneously shocked by (did women actually do things that cringey?) and embarrassed for these women. I finally pushed my way around a pillar as the opening bars of Elevation started. The source of the high pitched “Woooooos” made my eyes snap up. It was Bono.
Mother. Fucking. BONO. was on the stage.
The oversized rose tinted glasses. The hair. The hoops on both ears. The stubble. The jacket. Yup. BONO.
But no, it wasn’t. This guy was better looking. And that smile. Those TEETH. Bono didn’t smile like that. This guy was smiling like he had won the lottery. The joy in what he was doing was radiant. And I’ll be damned if he didn’t sound good too.
But why here! Why tonight? The AUDACITY of it all. I perched on my barstool observing the chaos before me. Huffing at every sweaty woman who jostled me at the bar while she ordered another house red and came dangerously close to spilling it on me as she staggered back - holding her glass aloft - before diving back into the fray.
And so I decided I disliked this stranger who was TOO good looking and TOO charming and was clearly going to cause issues with my weekend plans going forward.
Of course I eventually actually MET Patrick and was furious to find out that in addition to being devilishly handsome, crowd captivating, and musically talented, the bastard was an absolute delight as well.
We eventually became friends. I even sold him his red Ford Flex that he adored. I swear to Christ no one could make you believe that box on wheels was the coolest vehicle in the world the way he could. He’d send me pics when he took it out to COTA.
I remember seeing one ahead of me on 290 and thinking: How many could there be all the way out towards Oak Hill? AND he has a show tonight in Bee Cave so surely it's him...and I gunned it. You could see the back seats loaded up with equipment. I honked at him and his face lit up as he rolled down the window just before I made a left turn: INEZ! YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY! THE SHOW’S THIS WAY!
Patrick made every single person in the audience feel special. He honored our requests every single time for Good by Better Than Ezra and Santa Monica by Everclear. I loved when he sang The Freshmen but occasionally he’d chastise me with a wink (that wink!
): It’s a bit early in the night to go dark, Inez. We’ll save the depressing stuff for later.
Between sets he'd try to go for a drink and a pee but was stopped along the way by a never-ending stream of admirers. I'd sit and watch his slow progress to the door and only when he was absolutely bursting would he cut in to say, “I’m SO sorry, but I have to go to the little boys room before I get back up there.”
And I think that’s why I’m in shock. Patrick was, without question, the brightest star I have ever known. The kindest human being. An actual ray of fucking sunshine. His happiness was pure and seeped into the cracks of your bad day and lifted you up.
In fact, on Saturday morning I laid on the couch, crippled by my anxiety and depression and told myself: Come on, Inez. Get up. Don’t be a piece of shit and sit on the couch on your phone all day.
And then there he was.
As I scrolled I saw Patrick's post from the roadside in Roswell recorded two days earlier. I had seen it briefly the day he posted it, but hadn't clicked it. Saturday I did. I listened to him sing Starman and I smiled. I got off the couch, hooked up my Bluetooth, and played Starman. Once. Twice. And then once more.
I got more done on Saturday than I have in months. And as I cleaned I laughed to myself and thought: Isn’t it funny how life is? You thought he was such a d-bag when you first saw him wearing those pink sunglasses at night and he turned out to be, genuinely, one of the best people you’ve ever known.
About 8 hours later my music was still blaring (a late 90s playlist that would have made Patrick proud) and I was still plugging away cleaning when I saw
Murphy
's name pop up on my mobile.
After as much loss as we’ve been through, I think sometimes you just know. I answered the phone immediately. I didn’t say hello:
What’s wrong?
I could hear the lump in John’s throat. In that split second a dozen horrible possibilities flooded my mind at once. I was never prepared to hear:
Inez. Patrick is dead.
I FaceTimed my sister and calmly made some small talk and asked her if mom was around. But she knew when she saw my face and said, “Are you okay? Why does your face look like someone has died? Inez, who died?” And I heard the words again, this time coming out of my mouth:
Patrick is dead.
I could say those words a million times and they will never make sense. They will never sound anything but foreign and wrong and impossible.
I wish I had the courage to pursue my dreams as wholeheartedly and fearlessly as Patrick did. To live every day putting it all on the line and somehow making it work. To bring so many people so much joy day after day. Year after year.
There is no room, no venue, no stage in this world big enough for Patrick’s talent and enthusiasm and light.
In that way, I suppose it makes sense that our Starman is waiting in the sky. Patrick, I’m glad we got a chance to meet you - you certainly blew our minds.
The first time I saw
Patrick Fleming
, he "ruined" my night. I had come into Fadó for a quiet pint or six on a Friday night. When I got to the door there was a cover.
Me: What do you mean a cover? Why is there a cover?
Bouncer: Mysterious Ways is on tonight.
Me: WTF is Mysterious Ways?
Bouncer: They’re a U2 cover band.
Me: JFC. I have to get subjected to U2 AND pay a premium to do so?
I paid, of course, because it wasn’t the kind of night where I was in the mood to say “screw it” and go down the OCH rabbit hole across the street.
When I got inside it was packed. I scanned the room. There were throngs of “middle aged women” (who in retrospect were probably around the same age I am now, but everyone seems old when you’re 21) pressed against the indoor stage screaming. Like the Beatles stepping off the plane in America for the first time screaming.
A bra was thrown. I was simultaneously shocked by (did women actually do things that cringey?) and embarrassed for these women. I finally pushed my way around a pillar as the opening bars of Elevation started. The source of the high pitched “Woooooos” made my eyes snap up. It was Bono.
Mother. Fucking. BONO. was on the stage.
The oversized rose tinted glasses. The hair. The hoops on both ears. The stubble. The jacket. Yup. BONO.
But no, it wasn’t. This guy was better looking. And that smile. Those TEETH. Bono didn’t smile like that. This guy was smiling like he had won the lottery. The joy in what he was doing was radiant. And I’ll be damned if he didn’t sound good too.
But why here! Why tonight? The AUDACITY of it all. I perched on my barstool observing the chaos before me. Huffing at every sweaty woman who jostled me at the bar while she ordered another house red and came dangerously close to spilling it on me as she staggered back - holding her glass aloft - before diving back into the fray.
And so I decided I disliked this stranger who was TOO good looking and TOO charming and was clearly going to cause issues with my weekend plans going forward.
Of course I eventually actually MET Patrick and was furious to find out that in addition to being devilishly handsome, crowd captivating, and musically talented, the bastard was an absolute delight as well.
We eventually became friends. I even sold him his red Ford Flex that he adored. I swear to Christ no one could make you believe that box on wheels was the coolest vehicle in the world the way he could. He’d send me pics when he took it out to COTA.
I remember seeing one ahead of me on 290 and thinking: How many could there be all the way out towards Oak Hill? AND he has a show tonight in Bee Cave so surely it's him...and I gunned it. You could see the back seats loaded up with equipment. I honked at him and his face lit up as he rolled down the window just before I made a left turn: INEZ! YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY! THE SHOW’S THIS WAY!
Patrick made every single person in the audience feel special. He honored our requests every single time for Good by Better Than Ezra and Santa Monica by Everclear. I loved when he sang The Freshmen but occasionally he’d chastise me with a wink (that wink!
Between sets he'd try to go for a drink and a pee but was stopped along the way by a never-ending stream of admirers. I'd sit and watch his slow progress to the door and only when he was absolutely bursting would he cut in to say, “I’m SO sorry, but I have to go to the little boys room before I get back up there.”
And I think that’s why I’m in shock. Patrick was, without question, the brightest star I have ever known. The kindest human being. An actual ray of fucking sunshine. His happiness was pure and seeped into the cracks of your bad day and lifted you up.
In fact, on Saturday morning I laid on the couch, crippled by my anxiety and depression and told myself: Come on, Inez. Get up. Don’t be a piece of shit and sit on the couch on your phone all day.
And then there he was.
As I scrolled I saw Patrick's post from the roadside in Roswell recorded two days earlier. I had seen it briefly the day he posted it, but hadn't clicked it. Saturday I did. I listened to him sing Starman and I smiled. I got off the couch, hooked up my Bluetooth, and played Starman. Once. Twice. And then once more.
I got more done on Saturday than I have in months. And as I cleaned I laughed to myself and thought: Isn’t it funny how life is? You thought he was such a d-bag when you first saw him wearing those pink sunglasses at night and he turned out to be, genuinely, one of the best people you’ve ever known.
About 8 hours later my music was still blaring (a late 90s playlist that would have made Patrick proud) and I was still plugging away cleaning when I saw
Murphy
's name pop up on my mobile.
After as much loss as we’ve been through, I think sometimes you just know. I answered the phone immediately. I didn’t say hello:
What’s wrong?
I could hear the lump in John’s throat. In that split second a dozen horrible possibilities flooded my mind at once. I was never prepared to hear:
Inez. Patrick is dead.
I FaceTimed my sister and calmly made some small talk and asked her if mom was around. But she knew when she saw my face and said, “Are you okay? Why does your face look like someone has died? Inez, who died?” And I heard the words again, this time coming out of my mouth:
Patrick is dead.
I could say those words a million times and they will never make sense. They will never sound anything but foreign and wrong and impossible.
I wish I had the courage to pursue my dreams as wholeheartedly and fearlessly as Patrick did. To live every day putting it all on the line and somehow making it work. To bring so many people so much joy day after day. Year after year.
There is no room, no venue, no stage in this world big enough for Patrick’s talent and enthusiasm and light.
In that way, I suppose it makes sense that our Starman is waiting in the sky. Patrick, I’m glad we got a chance to meet you - you certainly blew our minds.
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Sad news! Condolences to all involved.
Pat, I've been sitting for a few days numb. Katie and I were heading back from floirda one thanksgiving to jersey and took the long way. About dusk i seen a sign for Valdosta Georgia and said to Katie ' hey kates that's where the onions come from" after a couple minutes she looks over and says "don't you mean vidalia?". i humbly say " well yeah but these are valdosta onions" She got me bad. now if ever see a vidalia sign in the store i almost laugh out loud. take a pic and send it to kates. I know she laughs too. Katie and I have a few other memories like that and it's good for the soul. You and Diane are gonna have moments like that a lot. a smile with tears even but great memories. you'll always have them and will be happy they are there. songs will come on, places you are familiar with. the shitty pizza at anthony francos that the kid loved so much cause the pizza in texas was horrible and was one of his stops when he got back to visit, but i had to bust his chops on how bad the pizza was there.. He gave as good as he got with me.. I had to write this for you and Diane to see cause i don't think I could get it out without losing it. Even now just writing it.. There's a girl named Inez down there, my new friend, what a post she put up for your boy. say hello when you meet up for me and thanks. I read it 9 times. Praying for normalcy when you guys bring him home but think that will be a long road back. Really hope you guys make some peace with it as best you can. There's not a chance he wanted to inflict this much pain on the two of your and had to weigh his against that and told whatever demons to kiss off and found his peace. He walked the walk, lived his dream and wouldn't want less for you guys.. Love ya bro and all the best to Diane and Dara, and Adriana.
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Update on time change from 5-9 to noon to nine
For those who wish to pay their respects for Patrick, and considering the unbelievable amount of friends that have posted their condolences, we thought it best to spread the day out to be less crowded. The new times will still be Thursday, December 17, but now from noon until 9pm. Please wear mask and socially distance. Thank you very much.
Patrick and Adriana's house at 5805 Las Alas Trail, Del Valle, TX.
For those who wish to pay their respects for Patrick, and considering the unbelievable amount of friends that have posted their condolences, we thought it best to spread the day out to be less crowded. The new times will still be Thursday, December 17, but now from noon until 9pm. Please wear mask and socially distance. Thank you very much.
Patrick and Adriana's house at 5805 Las Alas Trail, Del Valle, TX.