Friends – Paul Farris

This page is dedicated to all of those who knew and loved Paul

Tributes and Condolences for Paul

In May, 2007 we held two memorial services for Paul. Here are comments and videos from several of his very close friends.

Athena. “I want to think that in my life I’m going to be a friend like Paul was to me…”

Alec and Jason 1. https://youtu.be/OVXizaclAwM

Charlie. https://youtu.be/TGXsGz03z_A

Alec and Jason 2. https://youtu.be/u_AjmqE8Bxc

Dallas, Dan and Peter. https://youtu.be/WUuMti4BXSA

Posts from Paul’s friends

Hello Mr. Farris,

Please let me start by expressing my deepest sympathy for you and your family. I can’t imagine what you must be going through, really. I knew Paul for only a short time.

I interviewed him for the job he just started two weeks ago, and was amazed in every way with him…I knew before the interview was over that I had to hire him, and furthermore, I wanted him in my unit, and he did start and join my unit. I’ve worked at MetLife Auto & Home for 23 years…I started there when I was 21. I was nothing like him when I was his age. I’ve never interviewed anyone like him. But I don’t have to tell you, he was your son. I have 3 sons of my own, ages 5, 9 and 11. I went home after working with Paul after a few days and told my sons all about him, and how amazing this “new guy” was, and how inspired I was by him, and how lucky they would be to grow up to be like him. He was just perfect – smart, motivated, outgoing, handsome, talented, friendly…everything a 23 year old could possibly be. Yes, I only knew him two weeks, but he really touched me, and I am deeply saddened by this.

I didn’t know how to contact you, since the office was closed for the holiday, so I found Cathy Cella through Google. She gave me your cell phone number, too, but honestly, I could not speak to you right now without breaking down.

I am interested in any arrangements that will be made, and I will, of course notify the proper contacts in the Human Resources Dept to contact you. Again, I am so sorry for your and your family’s loss. If you need to reach me, my work number is. My cell # is, and my work email is. This is my home email, which you can also use. If there is absolutely anything I can do for you, please let me know, anything.

Nancy

Sometimes you have to be apart from the people you love. It just makes you love them more…

miss you baby!

love and miss you babe! Happy Birthday, hope to see you again!

I don’t know how to exist in the world where you don’t… I’m doing it, but at times I catch my breath and cant believe I’m still breathing without you holding my hand. I miss you.

Hoy’t first day of school today… it went really well, babe. but makes me more and more sad that you’re not here to talk to about the experience. I’m just sad that you’re not here to talk to…

hey babe! I moved this week for the first time since our place. Using all our furniture is hard without you hear to share it… To sleep in our bed is hard too… I feel you every day though, and I can’t begin to tell you of the value of how amazing that feeling is. I love you and miss you!

I know that you’re always with me. A year ago, I bawled my eyes out to Amazing Grace on the bagpipes, thinking of you. Today, I probably won’t be inconsolable, but I do miss you just as much as I did then.

Merry Christmas Paul.

Hey Paul- It’s been a year now and it’s still tough to think that you’re gone. I think of you pretty much daily and always try to do little things that honor you. I finally saw Radiohead live and it was as incredible as I thought it would be. I’m close to starting that big scary career job and launching this adult life that people keep talking about. It sounds overrated, but I’ll give it a shot. We miss you down here buddy.

I can’t believe it’s been 2 years that you’ve been gone. It feels like it was just the other day we were trying to figure out how to get you down to Arizona for my birthday bash. I love you Paul and miss you all the time.

Merry Christmas Buddy.

Hi, Paul. I’ve visited this page and paulfarris.org in the past and have thought of you often, but for some reason I haven’t been able to bring myself to write anything. It’s been so long since we knew one another, but you are one of those rare people that sticks in peoples’ minds and hearts forever. Although your life was far too short, you lived it to the fullest and touched the lives of everyone around you. I feel honored to have known you and to have called you my friend. Thinking of you and wishing you peace and joy.

i just now heard the news, and I can’t stop crying. Paul, this news is heartbreaking. The death of young people is always tragic, but it’s particularly terrible when someone as good and as kind and as talented and as wonderful as you were passes on. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and at peace. Much love to you and to your family.

Drove past your house the other day buddy. Thought I’d shoot you a hello! 🙂

just moved home this past month paul. drove past your house bud. thinking of ya.

hey paul, just posted on ellingboe’s wall and his profile shot is a great picture of you and him, it’s awesome to see! hope all is well in that better place you are bud.

PAUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Caught myself sharing stories about you to a friend of mine from college. Thought i’d drop in, and say hi!

hey paul, just saying hey buddy. hope all is well. we are all missing you down here. how’s the music up there? miss you terribly paul. caught myself on your mind, and thought i would say heeloooo! Peace

Farris. i miss your music dude. Period thinking of you buddy!

Paul, My fellow Paul, my fellow friend. Farris I can not tell you how much you will be missed. I remember back in high school, and that first year back from college, how great of a man you were and ARE. You were always so kind, so honest, so loyal. Paul, You will be missed my friend, I can NOT tell you enough. You brought a smile to my heart and your passion for music is something that I will always remember. I remember hanging in the basement of your place Christmas break freshmen year of college.

Paul, you are missed by me, and by countless others.

I miss it all baby. every bit of our life together, every bit of you…

Charlie. Dude, I still miss you all the goddamn time.

Just got off the phone with Dallas. We still miss you. But we’re so thankful for the time we had.

Paul, A year now and it’s not getting easier to accept. I’ll have Kid A on repeat all week for you, man.

Never written on here before but I think about you all the time. I miss the ball tag days at Countryside

Messed with the website all day Sunday. Listened to theMark over and over. Geez you guys were really good. Luv ya.[

malt, shake, desert of your choice! missing you man.

Hey Paul, I wish we kept in better touch the last few years but I will never forget you. You were so kind, genuine and always had a smile on your face. I’ll remember kicking it with you and the boys in concert choir and playing guitar in your basement. I’ll miss you.

I’m missing you on this sunday morning.

The best thing that one can do for another who passes away is to remember them, so I will, every day. You were my best friend, my roommate, my confidante, my partner in crime. I let you know how much I loved you all the time, and I am so glad that I did… because all of a sudden you were… and then you weren’t…and I will keep on loving you with all my heart. I miss you.

I was thinking about you the other day, miss you buddy

Paul, as a fellow musician on the tufts campus I just want to say that your memory and music will always be with me and the rest of the tufts community. I hate to see you go and miss you always. Jeff

Hey man just thinkin about you. you’re the best

i miss you

Not a minute goes by that I don’t think of you, Paul. I’m so thankful for the joy you brought to my life. We miss you so, so much.

thinking of you on your birthday, Paul. lots of love to your family — we all miss you.

you were right about ris paul ric… and a lot of music that I’m finally getting around to listening to. and I wonder what you think of the new radiohead. these are the gifts that keep on giving. you’re the best — i miss you

You changed the course of my life and made me a better person. You had a positive, uplifting influence on everyone around you and not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, Paul. I’ll miss you and will always love you.

paul! this seems so surreal, but my new band is playing at hotung today for the tufts battle of the bands, and i’m hoping you’ll be there in spirit and give us the strength to rock the joint. thanks for always being so supportive, brother.

I just found a poster of our 5th grade class. Your smile is the first thing I saw Paul. Ben D, Dan G, Brian S, all the good ol’ boys! I cant say how much we miss you Paul.

just thinkin’ of ya buddy. we miss ya

Tripmynd, The Main Drag & The Minus Scale will be raising money for the Farris/Hoyt care fund. 100% of ticket sales will go to the fund as well as door prizes and raffle sales. Please come out on August 3rd to help these bands pay tribute to Paul and raise money for Katie! All proceeds are going to the Farris-Hoyt care Fund. My band Tripmynd we be going on around 10:30.

my buddy dave called me and told me what happened. i still can’t believe it. i’m rocking themark right now in your honor, such a huge inspiration. rest in peace.

Paul, love you bro! Reality and life are so unfair. Miss you man

From the deepest of our hearts, you will always be in our thoughts and prayers. You will be missed by all of us.

Not a day has passed where I don’t stop thinking of you. I miss you man.

Hey pal! Was thinking bout you the other day! Its a nice fall day in Minnesota. I am going to get out to Boston soon to visit my sister, I only wish I could have come visit sooner.

I didn’t truly believe it until I read it in the newspaper. It’s such a tragedy that you were taken before you undoubtedly would have unleashed something extraordinary on this world. Sending you my best wishes in the afterlife, Paul. Keep on rocking. I’m so glad I knew you. I hope I can be as kind and a good friend as you always were.

You’re missed, Paul.

I can’t believe it’s already been six months. I miss you, man.

Love you, brother.

Happy Birthday. I thought about you all day.

Paul, I fondly recall the countless wonderful moments we shared, filled with laughter and joy. I always admired your kindness and thought that the world would be a better place if everyone had a friend like you. Your absence will be deeply felt, and I hope you’re in a better place, surrounded by love and peace. May your birthday be filled with happiness and blessings.

Happy birthday, brother. November 2, 2007 at 11:05 pm.

I’m currently in Colorado, searching for jobs in the music industry. It’s been a lot of fun. I can’t help but think about how you managed to keep your music alive and out there. It truly is an inspiration. Thank you for everything you gave and inspired us with. I initially thought this was some kind of joke. Although I barely knew Paul, I knew he was a wonderful person. He always appeared together with his talented and fun companions, and he was an excellent listener and understanding individual. He aspired for meaningful things, and I’m certain he had already achieved most of them. I’m certain he had already found most of them.

I want to express my gratitude for helping me connect with campus during my first year, Paul. I would have been lost without your assistance. I hope that Heaven is a gigantic record player…

Whenever I hear Oasis on the radio, I can’t help but think of you and laugh because you were, for some inexplicable reason, a huge fan of theirs. Thank you for being such a fantastic person.

I only met you once, but your kindness and warmth were truly remarkable. Your smile lit up the room, and I still remember how you looked at Kate, expressing your gratitude for finding each other. Life is precious and fleeting, but even in the brief time we spent together, you seemed to relish every moment. I regret that I never got to know you better.

I love you, man. I’ll never forget the times we spent together. I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart.

Paul, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to see you sooner. I’ll miss your smile and your warm heart. Love you. Until we meet again. ♥ j

Rest in peace. I miss you so much.

Hi everyone. These are wonderful sentiments and memories to share, but the people who truly need to hear them are Paul’s parents and brother. I’m fortunate enough to have known the Farrises my entire life, and I believe they would truly appreciate it if some of his friends took the time to write them a note expressing how much Paul meant to them. For some reason, their address is not listed in the online White Pages. I want to respect their privacy, but if any of you Boston (or Minnesota) residents would like to send them something, please message me, and I’d be happy to share the address with you.

The world is missing a good man today, and I miss him too.

I also always wanted to get a dog exactly like Kitsu and name it Farris. Now, I will.

Paul, when we were in 10th grade, you were the only boy I wasn’t afraid to invite to a dance. I knew you’d be kind to me and we’d have a great time. I can’t express how much I appreciate your kindness and friendship. I wish I could tell you that now. I hope you know how many people will miss you forever.

From EHS to Tufts, you were always a friendly face. The way you reached out to Carl junior year at Edina really touched me and made him feel much more at home here. You will be missed.

Paul, the worst things happen to the best people. I can’t think of a worse thing that could happen to a better person. Many guys are hip, many guys are nice, but you managed the rare, rare feat of being both. I guess it’s a time like this when a guy can say of another guy, “Goddamn, did you light up a room when you walked in?” No bad times were ever had with Paul around. I would give anything not to have gone on my stupid vacation so we could have hung out in Madison. I’m sure we’d have ended up running down State Street yelling, “RUGGLES!!!” At three in the morning, anyone who had even a moment with you knows how fortunate they are. If only it could have been more. Rest in peace. I’ll miss you dearly. Goddamn, people — tell your friends you love them. Everyone will miss you deeply. Remember that you had many people who cared about you and were deeply saddened by your sudden passing.

When you fall out of touch with someone, you often convince yourself that it’s okay because your paths will eventually cross again, and you can catch up later. (That’s what I thought before my brother passed away.) Here are a few things I remember about you: your smile, your eyes, and the drawing class we took together at the Edina Arts Center. I envied your drawing skills. You were also a great storyteller, but I don’t recall the details of your stories anymore. I believe we both wrote a book report on The Indian in the Cupboard. One year, for the talent show, you sang “Help!” by the Beatles. It always brings you to mind. I don’t remember who else was on stage, but I remember you. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know the man you were becoming. You were the best brother and friend anyone could ever ask for.

Paul, I can’t believe this is happening. Every time I think about you in the past tense, my heart sinks. So, I’m going to keep talking about you in the present. You’re one of the sweetest and most decent people I’ve ever known. I wanted to let you know that I’m dedicating my record to you. It’s being mastered this Saturday by Jeff. I wouldn’t have known him if not for you. It’s been an honor sharing the stage with you over the years and producing your music. This isn’t fair.

Paul, I can’t even begin to tell you how I wish this was all a nasty dream. I would be seeing you and Kate next weekend as planned. I at least have the memory of a good evening with you and a fond farewell. No hard feelings, no regrets. You mean so much to so many. I miss you very much.

Paul, words can’t even describe how much you meant to me. You made every person you were around smile. You were one of the smartest and most talented people I knew. I love and miss you so much. Your spirit will live on in the memories of each person who knew you, who you’ve touched, and in every story retold. May you rest in eternal peace, Paul.

Paul, nothing about this is even close to fair or right. I can’t even bring myself to think about how something like this could happen to someone who’s been so good to everyone around you. I’m glad we had all those long drives up to the middle of nowhere in New Hampshire to get to know each other. I’ll never forget you. Keep up the Rock. May 27, 2007 7:51 PM

No one could possibly expect you to be up and doing with things like email at such an awful time, but I wanted to send you a quick note to let you know that I’ll be flying home from New York on Friday for Paul’s memorial service this weekend. I’m really looking forward to giving you a big hug. You, J, and S have been constantly on my mind and in my prayers since Sunday.I sent your family a longer expression of my sympathy in the mail yesterday, but let me just say this: you raised a wonderful son who had only recently become a wonderful man. Paul was one of the most genuinely kind people I’ve ever met, and I hope you’re very proud of that. Paul accomplished many impressive things, but to me, the most outstanding was his unwavering kindness and compassion towards others. I’m proud to have known him.Please mourn how you need to mourn and heal how you need to heal. I know I speak for my family and all of Paul’s friends when I say that our community is here for whatever you need. Lean on us, and please know that Paul lives on in a million happy memories in many grateful hearts. Much, much love– Laura

Oh man, you were one of the few people I knew who remained true to your dream in music. Even though we hadn’t spoken in a long time, it was comforting to know that someone else shared my passion for music. You were a wonderful friend to everyone and a truly remarkable gift to the world. You are deeply missed. With all my love,

Added by Anonymous

Paul, you were one of the kindest and most gentle people I’ve ever met. It was an honor to work with and know you. You always had a kind word and a smile for everyone. My heart goes out to your family during this difficult time. May you find peace in whatever lies ahead, and may your family find solace and hope in your absence.

Added by Kathleen D

My reaction to your passing is a testament to your incredible spirit. I feel as though I’ve truly lost a friend, even though I doubt either of us would ever consider ourselves close. I fondly remember you in choir, talent shows, your warm smile, and the unique sound of your laughter. You will be deeply missed.

Paul, you were adored by everyone who knew you. I’ll cherish every memory of our friendship, especially Dane Cook’s handlebar moustaches and my secret trips to hang out with you and the guys. Love you always, until we meet again.

Janice: I can’t believe you’re gone. I had heard rumors about a crash in Somerville, but I didn’t take it seriously until I saw your picture on the news. I’m in shock. I know we hadn’t seen each other in a few months, and I wish I could make things right. I’ll miss you. Rest in peace.

Shanny: I never met Paul, but I was home the night of the accident, which happened right across the street from my family’s house. My prayers go out to all of Paul’s friends and family. The Highland and Kidder neighborhoods are sharing your grief and praying for Paul’s eternal life. We are so very sorry for your loss.

Diane: Paul was the most incredible person I’ve ever met. He had a way of making everyone smile and brightening up any room. He was brilliant and talented. He will never be forgotten.

Added by Randie

I never met Paul, but I’m friends with some of his friends. I’m deeply sorry for this loss. It’s such a tragic event. My heartfelt prayers go out to all of you.

Added by Anonymous

Random Thoughts/A Painful Flashback

by Sharon Hundt

Sharon was a friend of Paul’s mother. Tragically, Sharon passed away in 2013. She had lost a son to cancer several years prior. This is a deeply moving and difficult read.

I’m one of those modern individuals who primarily rely on my cell phone, but I don’t carry it with me constantly. I don’t receive many phone calls, and frankly, I don’t have many people I care to speak to. I’m known for being selective about my calls and not answering those from unfamiliar phone numbers. For a long time, the phone has only brought me negative news, and I sometimes wish I didn’t have it at all.

This morning, I left my phone in the bedroom while I checked my email, fed the cat, and took my medication. When I returned to watch television and attempt to take a nap, as I tend to wake up very early, I noticed that I had missed a call. It was only a few minutes past 8 a.m., so I wondered who would call me so early on a Sunday morning. It could have been anyone from my daughter to various friends who know I am an early riser. I skipped listening to the message and simply saw who the missed call was from. It was my friend from Edina, Roberta. It may sound amusing, but I have always felt a strong connection to her because she and my father share the same birthday. We have known each other for almost twenty years, having met at an Edina Newcomer’s playgroup back in the fall of 1988. I was there with my three-year-old son, Lowell, while she had her youngest child, Scott, who was approximately 18 months old. Our other children were in school. It was challenging enough to keep track of my children’s ages to remember those of my friends, so I am merely making educated guesses about their ages. Despite not sharing many common interests, we have remained friends, and even though I moved away, we have maintained our connection. We had last caught up two weekends ago when she called to wish me a happy birthday. I was aware of what her children were doing, that she was attempting to sell her house and relocate to Madison, Wisconsin. She sounded joyful and enthusiastic about her life.

I’m glad I didn’t heed the message, as I likely wouldn’t have called her back. She simply requested my call without revealing any underlying issues. I probably would have postponed it for a while, perhaps not even calling her back today. Instead, I promptly called her and heard the tears in her voice. Roberta doesn’t seem like the type who cries over trivial matters, unlike me, so I knew something was profoundly wrong. My initial thought was that her 80-something-year-old mother had passed away. I anticipated her distress over that, but I could sense that this was far more severe. As she spoke, tears welled up in my eyes because I understood the immense difficulty of uttering those words. Her oldest son, Paul, had tragically lost his life in a freak car accident the previous night. A flashback to July 7, 1999, and the hospital waiting room where I had called her to inform her of Greg’s death during surgery came rushing back. Paul was riding in a taxi with his girlfriend somewhere in Boston when a high-speed police chase ensued. They happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I finally found some information about the incident online, so I know a bit more than what she had shared with me. Paul was two years younger than Greg would have been, at the age of 23. Tragically, he succumbed to his injuries on the scene. His girlfriend is currently in critical condition. The taxi driver, the man who collided with them, and his passenger are all hospitalized. Her husband, Jon, is flying out to Boston today to handle the distressing details. He always appeared to be the kind of man who could navigate any situation, and I have no reason to doubt that he will somehow find a way to cope with this. His brother and other family members are meeting him at the airport and will provide support during this difficult time. Just like Fred and I managed to overcome our divorce, we clung to each other for strength because the thought of facing this alone was unbearable.

I can close my eyes and vividly picture Roberta in her family room, experiencing a whirlwind of emotions—shock, disbelief, and especially anger. She confided in me, explaining that she knew all her friends and that I was the only one who could truly comprehend her situation. I feel a deep sense of sorrow, knowing that I can’t be there to offer her the support she needs. However, I find solace in the fact that she’s not alone. Her friends are there for her, ready to rally around her with love and unwavering support. Scott is undoubtedly there too, but Roberta expressed her greatest concern for him. He recently lost his big brother, just like Lowell did. I genuinely hope that Scott will cope better than Lowell, who endured immense loss when Greg passed away. In an instant, their world was forever altered. I urged Roberta to ensure that Scott sought counseling, as he desperately needs someone to confide in during this difficult time. Lowell, on the other hand, refused to attend counseling, despite my persistent pleas and my attempts to persuade his father.

Among her two sons, Paul stood out as the more composed and stable one. He excelled academically, maintained close friendships, and resisted peer pressure, unlike Scott. Like Greg, Paul had a profound passion for music and was actively involved in a band. He was always polite and seemed to seamlessly blend into the standards of Edina, unlike my children. After their college trip, Paul had already made up his mind about his college choice and was accepted for early admission to Tufts, a prestigious institution located outside of Boston. In contrast, Scott presented a more challenging and unpredictable nature, much like Lowell. I recall a particular incident when Roberta called me overnight to inform me that Scott’s hair had transformed into curly locks. She also mentioned that he was taking a break dance class, leading the growler in a band, and later, he abruptly left NYU after only a few weeks to return to Minnesota. I had only known the boys through Roberta’s stories, and it’s unlikely that I would recognize either of them if I were to encounter them in person. Like most siblings, they shared striking similarities, yet they also possessed distinct differences.

Roberta would regale me with stories whenever we spoke on the phone about Paul and his band or his girlfriends at Tufts, a college outside Boston. Unlike Evelyn, who detested it back east, Paul adored it. After graduating, he secured a job in the Boston area at an insurance company, following in his father’s footsteps. He continued playing music and had a steady girlfriend who he likely intended to marry someday. He was planning to apply to law school in the fall and was set to have a fulfilling life, just like his parents. Yes, I was privy to all of Roberta’s children’s plans, just as she was to mine.

I had visited their house numerous times, sitting at her kitchen table or in the family room during our visits. I vividly recall the summer when we would sit and watch the handsome guys who were constructing her deck. Since our children were of different ages, they didn’t really play together, but they were acquainted. Currently, it feels like a vacuum, even though it’s likely filled with people. Paul is everywhere in the house, yet he’s nowhere to be found. People are filling it up, bringing them food and not knowing what to say, as there’s nothing you can say. There will be both tears and laughter as Paul is remembered. When all the people were at my house, mostly friends or coworkers of Fred’s, I sought refuge in the basement and Greg’s room. Roberta sat with me there, holding me as I cried. She also sat with me at his memorial service. I want to do the same for her, but I can’t and I feel helpless.

Our phone call was brief because after those devastating words were spoken, there wasn’t much else to say. I assured her that she would survive this, even though there would be many times she wished she hadn’t. I encouraged her to call me anytime to talk. She expressed her hesitation to bother me and bring up memories, but I reassured her not to worry about that. Two weeks earlier, I had shared with her how I couldn’t cope with my friend Nancy’s and her daughter’s cancer diagnosis. It’s a completely different situation. In Roberta’s case, her entire world ended in an instant. She mentioned that she initially thought the doctor’s phone call last night at 4 a.m. was a prank until she called the hospital back. She never anticipated this, unlike me, who had time to prepare for Greg’s passing. Additionally, she’s in Minnesota while her son’s body is in Massachusetts. I can’t fathom how helpless she feels in that situation.

After we ended the call, I reached out to Evelyn. I shared the news with her, and she too broke down in tears. She’s currently packing but expressed her intention to visit Roberta’s house today. She’ll be accompanying me, and I’m grateful for her offer to do so. I recounted how not too long ago, Roberta had sent me a picture she found while going through her belongings at the Edina School district. It was a picture of Lowell when he was likely in first grade and on a class field trip. However, it took me a moment to recognize him. Roberta immediately recognized it as Lowell because that’s how she remembers him, as a young boy. She also shared some pictures of Evelyn and Lowell at her house when she adopted her dog. It feels like a lifetime ago. That’s how I’ll remember Paul, as a shy teenager.

Now, Roberta and Jon are burdened with the task of informing and recounting the tragic news of Paul’s passing to everyone. The words “my child is dead” have never been more difficult to utter. They must make funeral arrangements for their child, a responsibility no parent should ever have to bear. While Paul’s room may no longer resemble the one he inhabited, they must face the daunting prospect of emptying it out. What exacerbates this challenge is their attempt to sell the house. All the cherished memories that will now be even harder to let go of, as there will be no new memories of Paul to create in the new home. I find myself reflecting on how Greg never visited Arizona or lived in this house. Gradually, his room was dismantled by Lowell, Evelyn, Fred, and myself. We all yearned for a small fragment of him to maintain our sanity. We didn’t want to lose his possessions as he lost his presence. I am certain they will cling to certain items that hold sentimental value, as it will provide them with a sense of connection to Paul. As I write this, Spud rests comfortably at my side, reinforcing my belief in this truth.

Evelyn visited Roberta’s house, and while I understand it was difficult for her, I’m proud of her for making the effort. She did it for me and for herself. We used to drive past their house frequently because it’s on a major street in Edina, and the kids would always ask me to honk the horn. Not to warn them we were passing, but because years ago, when they had a large tree cut down in front of their house, someone carved a giant gnome into it. My kids found that hilarious. She mentioned that the house was filled with people, and she told me Roberta was still in her pajamas when she arrived. I learned that Jon was on his way out, and Scott looked terrible. There was one of Roberta’s girlfriends who was taking charge, and I was glad of that since I couldn’t do it myself. She instructed both Roberta and Scott to call if they needed anything. Mostly, Evelyn wanted to talk about her experiences and I let her vent. The saddest part for her was being in a room again with crying boys who couldn’t express their grief.

I can’t help but think about the pain Roberta is feeling and relive the entire situation. It’s hard to believe that the world continues even though you want it to end and that everyone should feel your pain. This happens countless times a minute because people die all over the world. Fortunately, I don’t know all those people and don’t have to experience their pain. I feel Roberta and her family’s pain, and from experience, I know that only time can dull the hurt, and it will never completely go away. I can tell her that and offer many other things to try and make her feel better, but she will have to find her own way to cope with her loss, just as everyone else does. Now, I understand that Roberta and I will always be friends because of this tragic shared bond. We belong to the club of mothers who lost a child, a club that doesn’t need any more members.