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Saturday, July 7, 2007


night we were all packed up and ready to leave on vacation. Our 22 year old son Paul stopped by before we went to bed and we had a long talk with him. Actually the best talk we've had in years. We talked about his new job, his great girlfriend who was head over heels over Paul, and we told him how proud we were of him and how he was doing so well. He told us to wake him up before we left in the morning on our drive north. So at six o'clock in the morning on the fourth, we woke Paul and he gave us both a hug and told us goodbye and he loved us and to have a good time. We told him we loved him too.

A phone call from our older son Jeff came around midnight on the fourth. We were in a motel outside of Nashville. The words "Dad Paul's Dead" will ring in my ears forever.

1 comment:

Jean said...

I can't imagine your pain.