This has been, without a doubt, the worst week of my life. I feel like a part of me has been torn out, and the person I like to call to joke about lifes cruel twists and turns, is gone. The guy who always answered his phone oui bonjour when I called, who texted me no less than 10 times a day, who held nearly 15 years of inside jokes, family jokes and wonderful memories in the palm of his gentle hand, has left us. I am heartbroken, but I am also grateful. I loved Paul so much. He was my brothers best friend, and mine as well. Many, many years ago, as a teenager, I came home to my parents house to find my brother and a guy with a Layne Staly haircut playing music in the living room. He was a sweetheart, which was good, because he quickly became a regular fixture at the house. That first night, we ordered chinese food, and talked about music, and I liked him right away. He was so funny. The first time he was invited to Sunday dinner (a weekly open house in my family home, as per the Irish tradition), he showed up in a suit. My brother and I teased him, but he shrugged it off, saying Hey man, I wore my Sunday best. He quickly became part of our family. He and my brother played music together for years, over a decade, in fact. They had a couple of different bands. Mostly, they just wanted to hangout. Cuzo was a prodigy on the bass, and he had what seemed like effortless talent. He lived and breathed music. I remember him phoning me in tears when Dimebag Darrell was shot, so saddened was he by the death of one of his heroes. When we talked about music, Paul lit up. He knew everything about every band, loved classic rock, and was happiest when wearing his bass. Once, everyone went to see Oasis at Molson Amphitheatre in Toronto. Paul was kicked out of the concert for trying to sneak in a friend. So, he literally jumped into the incredibly polluted section of lake Ontario, swam around the venue, hopped a fence, and got back in. My parents house stunk like polluted lake for weeks afterwards. His only complaint was that he got his smokes wet. When I asked him to play with The Mahones, he was pretty pumped, but no one was more excited than I was. He was like a brother to me. Even before he joined the band, we had years of love, fun and nonsensical jokes under our belts, and Paul was one of the kindest people I knew. My friends had crushes on him. My parents loved him. Everyone loved him. He had a razor sharp wit, but never used it negatively. He was remarkably kind. When Paul joined The Mahones, I was struggling with some demons. He, Dom & Finny carried me through. They picked me up, dusted me off, and took care of me. Together, we travelled the world. We made our way through countless countries together. The inside jokes and Simpsons references were constant. Every night, Finny would introduce me on stage, and Paul would quietly boo, so that only I could hear, and I would burst out laughing every time. It never got old. When off tour, nothing made me happier than having Paul and my brother over. Those were the nights that I would laugh the hardest. I would invariably wake up with a sore stomach from hours of laughing hysterically. He loved my brother very much, and vice versa. They were like brothers. Paul even took time off of our last tour to go see a couple of Pearl Jam dates with Liam. We thought he was crazy, but there was no way I was getting in between them and Eddie Vedder. Even now, every Friday, my brother forwards Paul and I emails from Medieval Times, because we used to like the movie The Cable Guy ten years ago, and none of us ever grew out of the jokes. I was in bed when my brother called the other night. I thought he was phoning to relay an idiotic joke, as per usual. When I heard his voice, I knew something was terribly wrong. I couldnt believe the news. In that minute, my world was viciously torn apart. It will never be the same. Thank you for your outpouring of support. The pain has been overwhelming at times, and numbing at other times. I can hear his laugh, I can see his face, I can feel his crappy half-assed hugs (he wasnt a hugger, but he *always* let me hug him). I just want my friend back. So what now? Like I said, Paul lived and breathed music. He played bass on Angels & Devils and The Hunger & The Fight. If you listen to his work, its incredible. He was an unbelievable musician. So, we must amble forth. This band has been stricken with death before. Its vicious, and its unfair, but we must do what we have always done, and amble forth. We will carry on Pauls legacy through the music he created with us. We will remember him everyday, fondly, lovingly, painfully. We will be there for his father, family and friends. We will love him ferociously for as long as we live. On a personal note - Im getting the Milpool... tattoo he always wanted. With that, well try to resume the music and business side of things this week. Please bear with us as we find our footing. Thank you again for your love and support, we love you very much. Thank you.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 16:28:21 +0000
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