Chronicle of the Unexpected

Even though I liked to play with the idea, I would never leave Paul. I loved and hated his humor, his honesty and his generosity. His humor was really difficult to get. His honesty stopped him from becoming wealthy or powerful. Because he was extremely generous, he often forgot his own needs to attend the needs of others.

I was sleeping when he left. I believe he was sleeping too. It’s a shame he couldn’t stay any longer. I see areas of this house and I can feel he was happy here. Paul would always be happy as long as he could have his own ways. Doing whatever he wanted gave him a sort of celestial happiness. He got fat and lazy. He forgot he belonged to a family with health issues. His arteries were dying. We could see signs he stubbornly explained with “natural consequences of aging”. He would get bitter and mad if someone insisted in changing his lifestyle or eating habits. He was imposing them to other people in this house. He got his needs wrong and also the needs of this family.

For two days I had my lips burned from trying to resuscitate him, to make him breathe. I almost broke my left leg in the process of rescuing him. I couldn’t see signs of life, but it is always difficult to hear a doctor saying it. Death is so definitive!

I resent him because that wasn’t planned. I hate him because he couldn’t see the obvious. I love him because I couldn’t find someone more generous than he was. Death changes the way we perceive things. Probably ours was a match made in heaven, he with his protector inclination and me with my need to be protected. I always wanted someone different, but I would never leave Paul because I am a strange creature that falls for details like when he covered me while I fell asleep in the couch. Details kept me at his side. I could never see the whole package. Details are a dangerous distraction. Remember the movie where she falls for a guy who says “Good bless you”? I’m just like that.

There were two moments in this ongoing process where I broke in tears. First I was trying to evoke a memory between the two of us to say goodbye, but all I could remember was of him helping other people or solving all sort of questions. I would be crying until now if someone close didn’t remember to see us walking hand-in-hand. There was another moment where I cried like a baby, because loving and not loving is really hard.

He was so concerned with the wellbeing of a few that he completely forgot his own. Now he is making those he protected suffer like hell, because he never gave them the chance to fight for whatever they wanted. He was always there to provide and to protect. I don’t blame him that much. Hard feelings against dead or alive people are not advisable. He was doing the best he could, only that best wasn’t best enough.

There were so many signs and I couldn’t read them! Plants no longer growing the way they should. Persistent stains on the floor. Dust and sadness covering everything… Precisely one week after this personal tragedy, the best word describing what I feel is: disorientated. Death is the most unexpected thing.

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