Ten days ago, I lost my very dear friend Paul.
Paul was a loving husband and a dedicated Dad. Paul's life revolved around his family.
Paul was a great friend.
It began around the first of the year. It had been a few months since we last spoke. His voicemail mentioned something about medical setbacks and a three week medical stay. When we finally spoke, he informed me that he was fighting to get better after a lung biopsy left his lungs unable to function properly. He was only able to go home for a short period of time but was then forced back into the hospital.
Paul was placed on a transplant list early spring. The doctors diagnosed him with pulmonary fibrosis. The cause of his illness remained unknown. I visited Paul a few times in the hospital. I wish I had visited more. I was convinced he would get better. I was convinced he was coming home. I was convinced he would be fine. I never once thought that maybe Paul was just too sick to get better. I figured he would be out of the hospital in no time and we would spend time together then.
I was very much in denial.
Paul was only 38 years old.
I am angry that God has taken such a wonderful man away from his family. I am sad that his children might never know how much their dad loved them. I ache for his wife that has to live without her beloved and raise their two children without him. I can't even imagine her pain.
I am wishing that I had spent more time with him over the last few months.
You fought long and you fought hard. Your body just couldn't fight anymore. May you finally be at rest and at peace.
You will never be forgotten.
I miss you buddy.