Hello all. Well, I had the MRI today. Not that I haven't experienced one before - getting to be old hat. The big news will be on the 21st when we get the results. The more important news is that today marks the birthday of my dearly departed brother Paul, who would have turned 53 today. I was going to write a tribute to him, but instead, I am posting the eulogy that I was honoured to deliver at his funeral this past November. Seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago that Paul passed away from The Big C. Yes, f**king cancer. This is not meant to be negative, however; quite the contrary in fact. Both my big brother and I know that Paul is at peace in heaven and his passing and his suffering put many things into perspective for me. But this isn't about me. This is about my dear brother Paul. Buon compleanno, caro fratello. Ti amo.
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The date of August 9 lays claim to many auspicious and momentous events. In the year 1173, construction began on the infamous Tower of Pisa, while on the same date in 1483, the awe-inspiring Sistine Chapel first opened its doors to the multitudes of the faithful. On August 9, 1778, the legendary Captain Cook completed an epically historic journey as the first man to sail through the previously impenetrable Bering Strait, and in 1786, brave souls first scaled the snowy peaks of Mont Blanc. Now, while we might all acknowledge that these events were undeniably memorable, I might also venture to say that for those assembled here today, August 9, 1960 was of particularly special and poignant importance as this was the momentous day when a beautiful, bouncing 8.5 pound baby boy by the name of Paul Tonin first greeted the world.
In the year 1960, there was a shifting of attitudes and mores and culture, as most of the western world embarked on exciting, yet tumultuous times. And yet, there was one thing that remained constant and true and unchanging. You see, in 1960, August 9 happened to fall on a Tuesday, and no truer words have ever been spoken than those of the legendary nursery rhyme that quotes that while Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace. My dear brother Paul was -- from the very beginning and throughout his entire adult life -- a man truly full of grace, and blessed with a thoughtful, caring nature, selfless and compassionate in every way, with a tender-heartedness and generosity of spirit that was palpable, that resonated on a deep level with everyone he encountered, and that in his adult years, despite all of his trials and tribulations, was at once inspiring and humbling.
My earliest childhood memories of Paul are all warmly wrapped in that same heartwarming theme...from how he protectively and affectionately held my hand as we walked to school together every day for years; to suffering from the whooping cough when we were both still in diapers and being together in the hospital, side by side in our cribs, and how he stretched his arms through the bars of his crib in his empathic effort to comfort me; to trick or treating with him every Hallowe'en and how he would gladly and willingly and without fail, always be the first to offer to share his many sweet spoils -- this was my dear brother Paul. Caring. Compassionate. Selfless. Thoughtful. Kind.
And those glorious summers -- at that blessed age when there is a not a care in the world and when summers seem to last forever -- those many sunny, fun-filled days spent at St. George's Park, where a perpetually tanned and fit Paul would run and play and laugh, only to rush home for lunch and rush back, so that we could play on the merry-go-round and where he would happily push me on the swings, and where we would run and play and laugh some more. You see, Paul was my childhood best friend. My inseparable second half. My confidante, my playmate, my protector. And those cherished memories are the stuff of which dreams are made, as no one could have asked for a more loyal, faithful, kind-hearted, loving best friend than my dear, sweet, beautiful brother Paul.
And while Paul was kind-hearted -- so much so that he literally would not kill a fly -- he was by no means timid or meek and he had strength of conviction for his beliefs and was both courageous and respectful when defending them. Paul was unfailingly tolerant of other's thoughts and opinions and I stand here before you all and before God and can state without reservation that Paul never uttered a disparaging or unkind word about anyone. While that might sound like a lofty claim, and recognizing that the word "never" is an absolute term, it is indeed true and this rare and precious gift that Paul possessed -- this eternal grace -- this is how Paul lived and breathed, without effort and that is his true gift.
Paul was also blessed with our family's sense of adventure and wanderlust, and a love of travel. Paul had an innate curiosity and open-mindedness for things and places and animals and people that were different and wonderful and far-away, and for traveling to places that were unlike any other he had seen. As Paul entered the tender years of his early youth and as he started to look towards planning his future with hope and excitement and anticipation, he dreamed of being both an air traffic controller and of being a pilot so that he could venture off to all those exotic far-off places with dreams and aspirations that included hiking the jungles of southeast Asia, meeting majestic yet endangered tigers face-to-face in the wilds of Africa, exploring the vast diversity of cultures and climates in India and helping the poorest of the poor.
At the time that the youthful Paul was embarking on his exciting life's journey with his entire future ahead of him, the illness known as youth's greatest disabler -- schizophrenia -- ruthlessly and unequivocally thwarted Paul's plans. Dear family and friends, I do not tell you this so that you may pity Paul or be sad or angry at this debilitating condition. I tell you this for no other reason than to say that despite the cards that Paul was dealt in his youth and how profoundly and irrevocably that affected nearly every aspect of his adult life, that despite his suffering, Paul's innate goodness, his gentle, kind-hearted spirit, his tolerance and his incredible courage and compassion prevailed without question throughout his entire adult life and right until the day he died. Such was the depth and breadth of his empathy that he lamented that there were people that did not have enough to eat, for people who are persecuted for their beliefs, for people in pain, for endangered animals -- this empathy and compassion is both profound and inspirational.
More importantly, though, Paul possessed an unwavering faith, so genuine and deep-rooted, that while we are here to mourn his passing from this earth and to express profound sorrow at the thought of never again feeling enveloped in Paul's beautiful gentle spirit, both Dan and I -- despite our heartbreaking sorrow at the loss of our dear, sweet, soulful-eyed brother -- take great comfort and solace in knowing that with your love and support and prayers, that Paul is celebrating and reveling in his eternal grace with our parents and that God indeed has a very special place in heaven for beautiful souls like Paul, our grace-filled friend, cousin, nephew and brother.
Giuditta
Lovely. Textured.
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