"Could we have a Halloween party for Ingrid?"
"...In May?"
"Yeah. Like a Christmas in July thing, only it's Halloween...in May."
"Um, I mean. I guess we could do that?"
"I just love seeing her dressed up," he said. "We could get costumes and candy and have her cousins over to watch Halloween movies."
"OK Paul. Yeah. A Halloween party it is. How are you doing on pain? Time for more Oxy yet?"
It felt like he knew he wouldn't make it until October. And maybe he just wanted one last stab atstealing sharing his kid's stash of Reese's cups.
But then, minutes later, he'd refer to some future event with giddy anticipation. Not at all like someone who was planning to die in a few days. Like, for instance, his baby sister's wedding that took place a couple of weeks ago. He was so excited to see her walk down the aisle.
I remember sitting at the dining room table with Paul on one of his last nights. He had a photograph of his youngest sister in his hands and he was saying, "She is so beautiful. Isn't she so pretty, Liz?"
It felt like he knew he wouldn't make it until October. And maybe he just wanted one last stab at
But then, minutes later, he'd refer to some future event with giddy anticipation. Not at all like someone who was planning to die in a few days. Like, for instance, his baby sister's wedding that took place a couple of weeks ago. He was so excited to see her walk down the aisle.
I remember sitting at the dining room table with Paul on one of his last nights. He had a photograph of his youngest sister in his hands and he was saying, "She is so beautiful. Isn't she so pretty, Liz?"
Hearing a brother say that about his sister—is there anything sweeter? I mean, really. But that was Paul for ya. He loved his family. LOVED them.
People tend to speak favorably of the dead, but I am only being sincere when I say I was tremendously lucky to have been Paul's wife. His siblings were lucky to have had him as a brother. His friends were lucky to have been witnesses to any one of his (possibly intoxicated) impersonations of a French boarding school headmaster (long story). I won't say his parents were lucky to have had him as a son because *ahem* they had a major hand in molding Paul into the Paul that he was, so actually—he was the lucky one there.
So Paul, I just wanted to let you know—your sister was a lovely bride. All FOUR of your sisters were lovely. Your brothers weren't half-bad either. Ingrid and her cousin made the most darling flower girls. And the DJ was out. of. this. world.
 |
| A small handful of Ingrid's bajillion cousins |
Guys, enjoy your trick-or-treaters. And hey! Do me a solid and save me any Junior Mints. You can have all of my Almond Joys and Mounds and whatever other candy bars decide to be gross by having coconut in them.
Also, to Paul's baby sister: I'm sorry if this makes you cry. But Paul loved you quite a lot and I dunno. Maybe it's good for you to hear that again. Don't be mad, pleaseeeeeeeee k love you bye.
Hi Liz,
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post. Again. I don't know how you do it, but somehow you manage to mix your raw emotions and grief with a dose of humor, too, into your writing. It sounds like everyone who knew Paul was indeed lucky. I'm glad the wedding was so lovely. I'm sorry Paul wasn't there with you all in the physical sense, but it's obvious his presence was there nonetheless. Ingrid looks adorable. Thanks for another moving post. x
Thank you Nancy. Paul was an exceptional guy. No question. This time of year always makes me especially emotional and wistful and nostalgic, and all of that gets channeled into my writing. But I try to level it off with some happy. :)
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