For Paul
It all feels like a really sad movie.
A friend of a friend starts getting really bad headaches and goes to the hospital. He has to be transferred (airlifted?) to a larger hospital nearby because something is very wrong.
Brain cancer.
We were 18.
What followed was the heartbreaking storyline I never imagined would play out in real life.
I remember, while he was out of school for treatment, Thanksgiving passed. I was eating with people who knew Paul better than I, and we Skyped him into our Thanksgiving dinner, sending him our well wishes and hopes for a speedy recovery so that he could come back and hang out with us. So simple. We just wanted to get to spend more time with this new friend.
I remember smiling and laughing with him.
Everything was going to be alright.
Even at 18, I had already known so many people who had been diagnosed with cancer, but at 18, everything has to be alright. It just has to be.
Remission, returning to school.
In the returning to school part of this story, we were now in our second year of college. Paul would have to do an extra semester, but that was alright, a small price to pay for his health. He was looking good and feeling good, he said. We would come to spend more time together than we had in our first year. We went to a small school, so the circles we ran in overlapped frequently. He was cute. He was nice. I liked getting to know him better.
From the moment I met Paul, I remember being struck by how kind he was. After he came back to school, there was still nothing but kindness in his heart. We were in a service fraternity together, which meant that we volunteered a lot. I remember that being the thing Paul most readily jumped back into. We’d chat about how he was feeling, what he was most excited about for the school year, what parties he was going to at the weekend. I hope things felt normal for him. As normal as they could be.
Recurrence.
I don’t exactly remember when Paul left school again. I think it was during winter break. But a routine checkup had revealed the return of cancer. This time is sort of a blur because it was in and around the time that Dad was diagnosed.
I won’t pretend to have been close with Paul. I wasn’t a friend who would go to visit him while he was going through treatment. I wasn’t a confidant. But I was kept in the loop, and like everyone else, I hoped he’d be fine this time, too. I sort of had to believe it, didn’t I? Because if Paul wasn’t OK, what would that mean for anyone else, for my dad?
I remember when my friend called me to tell me the news.
Early in the summer, Paul died.
Despite not knowing Paul as well as some of my other friends, I was still devastated. He was just one of those people whose presence lingered. Not because he was powerful in that assertive way, but because he just always left you feeling better than he found you. There was something so natural in his kindness, his open heart. People like that are hard to come by.
Paul’s funeral was one of the saddest moments of my life. My parents wouldn’t let me drive to it. I had been so distraught when I heard the news, and they were worried I was in no state to be on the roads. They were probably right, but I was adamant that I had to go, so Dad drove me.
I was inconsolable for days. I was sad to lose Paul; I was devastated at losing a friend so young, even a casual one. I was scared about the world, one that would allow for this to happen. Paul’s light, his presence, had been calm, hopeful. If we’d have to live in the world without his light, I wasn’t sure what was going to come next. It was terrifying.
In hindsight, I can see that, somewhere lurking, there was also a fear of what it might mean to one day be the family greeting crying loved ones at a funeral. Through Paul’s death, the realities of my immediate world became harsher.
I’m certain that there are many people who loved Paul who can share more stories, more laughs, more love. Today I want to remember Paul because he was someone to remember. Not because he died too young - though he did - but because everyone deserves to have a Paul in their lives. A person who is giving first. Who is warm. Who is gentle. Who wants the world to be a better place.
Every Paul in this world deserves more life.
I think about him often. Paul will always stay with me, not because we were particularly close, but because of how our time together was always spent having fun, enjoying the company we were with, giving back in the ways we knew how to at 18. His presence is a reminder of how we can impact people’s lives, even when we don’t know it. When we lead with kindness and giving, our impact goes beyond us.
For Paul x