Happy Birthday, Paul: 1973--2008
Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance.
Another heartache - another failed romance.
On and on...
Does anybody know what we are living for?
Queen: "The Show Must Go On"
I have not posted on this grossly neglected blog for quite some time now. Today, though, is my best friend Paul's birthday. He would be thirty-seven today. It is also his son's birthday. Happy Birthday, Ian.
I began my day by detouring to the cemetary to share a few moments and some Queen with my old friend. I normally don't do that sort of thing. My father and I have always shared the view that the dead aren't really interested in visitors. However, I stood there, in the beautiful morning sun, in the middle of an expansive collection of buried corpses, and blasted "The Show Must Go On" into my ears via a recently purchased MP3 player.
It was surreal. As the song reached its crescendo, intoning the optimistic titular phrase, I felt like a character in a movie--envisioning a wide panning cameral shot of me standing in the middle of the cemetary, in shirt, tie, and black leather jacket, offering an emotional yet futile tribute to the one person who stood by my side through so many years of teen angst and growing pains.
I love Paul. I miss him. I knelt by his grave, fingering the date of his birth--today's date--and wished so bad I could talk to him just one more time. I wish I could ask his advice. I wish I could introduce him to my wife and children, show him my home, tell him how things have been. I can't.
After about twenty minutes, I turned and walked back to my car. I said good-bye, out loud. That's a bit melodramatic, I'll admit. But then again, so was the whole event.
Later man, Happy Birthday.
Sometimes I don't believe in much... but I hope I see you again.