if you sing a song, sing a song for them

I don't get over things easily. I get kind of consumed by them. Today I barely could pull myself away from the computer. I just wanted to talk to other people who were feeling like I am, who understood. I have alwasy been a journaler, I have always tended to journal to deal with pain, hurt, confusion or anger. All of these I am feeling now. So I am writing, and rereading, and listening.

I went back through my old journals and found a few others that were written for Paul that I thought I would share.

This is another verion of "Hank and Merle" but a bit more detailed:


I got to meet my internet friend last night. It was really wonderful. I met him through cf.com and we've been "friends" for about two years now, though only in the last year have we really become closer. We joke that we are the other gender version of one another - if that made sense. He is 42 and about 9 months post transplant, but has had a very rough go of it. He is in rejection right now and is on a vast array of immunosuppressant drugs and antibiotics, so, since i culture staph and PA (sorry for the non CFers on the list, just know they are common bugs for people with Cf to have in their lungs), and since he is not doing so hot, we opted to keep the requisite three feet of space between us suggested for Cfers due to cross contamination...so we didn't hug or even shake hands. None the less, it was amazing.

This was my first meeting of someone IRL with Cf where I felt I was relating to that person through and about this disease. It was fabulous. I wasn't embarrassed to cough, we talked enzymes and transplants and abuses we've put our bodies through in rebellion of this disease. I felt so connected.

There was no sexual tension at all, as can sometimes occur between members of the opposite sex, I felt like this was a pure friendship. We met at a coffee shop and then walked to try to find him something to eat since it wasn't the best idea to be in a car together (but sadly ended up at DQ as SB is not a late night town, especially on a Monday). As we walked back to his hotel I just had this moment of affection. I wanted to hug him so badly, and I would have thought germs-be-damned, but it wasn't my health we were protecting, so I resisted.

But we chatted in the parking lot and joked when I coughed. "That's OK, go ahead and have CF," he said.

To which I replied, "I have asthma," which is, of course, a Cf joke. And we talked about what excuse I would have made to an unknowing person had I coughed like that in front of them. But it was nealry midnight and I knew I had to go.

G wasn't overly amused with this whole idea in the first place, and I'd already been gone for three hours, so I knew I shouldn't stay. But I wanted to. It was such a unique moment of friendship, one that I have never had with another person because we were totally united with this disease. Besides the fact that we have a a lot in common anyway, the understaning of the disease made it so much deeper.

I don't think words can begin to explain.

This, it looks like, based on my "stat counter" might have been what Paul was (re)reading a few days before he died. While I am sad he was possibly revisitng any Pepe business, I am so glad that these words were fresh in his mind:


I've delayed writing a post for a few days because I am just not sure what I want to say. I've certainly allowed myself to get swept up into recent events, mainly in defense of my friend. and while I am utterly intrigued by the unfolding events - the HOW and WHY of the whole thing, the fascinating mental illness that most likely masterminded things, I am more concerned with love.

I find that people are so quick to judge. So quick to assume the worst - everyone loves a scandal. I am no different I suppose, as I dutifully maneuver through my daily blogroll, scoping out good sites and snooping into others' lives. Yet in doing this, in forming an internet identity and a life separate online form the one I live out here, outside of the box, I have created a life complete with friends, meaningful interactions, and even love.

We all know that love can't just be turned on and off. Haven't you ever seen"The Crying Game?" (spoiler here) - even when our protaganist finds out his love is in fact a man, he can't just stop loving her, by then it is much too late. Of course feelings can change and love can fade, but often not as we try to direct it to. It seems the harder people rally against the effects if love, the stronger it reacts.

So while I watch this great drama unfolding, puitting the piece together like a Scooby mystery, I keep thinking about love and how it affects those most directly involved, and because I keep reflecting on that feeling I can't help but feel extremely sad. Sad for a person who felt the need to create such a lie to find love and even sadder for my friend who loved so deeply that he put his own needs aside only to find out that the love has been misused and misdirected.

I hope my friend knows I send him much love in these hard days and that I have always believed in him, have seen his shining beauty, and in the words of one of my favorites, that I hope he shall "rise up singing."

I will have to revist my sadness ad nauseum, that is how I work things out....so if you loved Paul, share here with me. I move through my emotions slowly, thoroughly. I know the music will come back to me a little at a time, but for now I am trying to be still with my grief, keep vigil for my friend.