15 Years of Memories (and more)

When I was 8 and you were 15

I remember the wonder of electronics you introduced me to

Look where it went

When I was 15 and you were 22

You were the brother with the apartment we could hang out in

Eating home made spare ribs, and Sukiyaki cooked at the table

I've watched all the kids cross the 15 year old line

Learning about the world. The world without you now

Someday the grandkids will be 15

We all make sure they know who you are

And how much of you we see in everyone

Rest my brother

We've got this

But, we miss you terribly

A poem for Paul

14 Years have passed us by

While families grow and on we fly

I hope you know what good things befell 

To your family and friends since you said farewell

Keep an eye on us from time to time

With the occasional joke dropped at the appropriate time

Because I know it's you that hides my pen

But also makes sure that we all win again

We're still here Paul. And I know you're proud.

Families grow, people grow. The world turns and we get a little more gray.

Make a wish.

The seeds carry on our breath

and the wind does the rest.

Life springs

where it lands

making tiny sunshine.

A ray of hope

destined to offer 

more wishes to the hopeful.

I wish you could see us now.

What a year.  You're a grandpa again!  COVID continues, and has changed the world fundamentally, for good, and bad.  I'm a homeowner again, and all of the kids are heading in good directions, making good life choices.  I'm teaching.  I like this.  All of it.  Except what's missing.  Happy birthday Paul!

A Poem From Sue for 2020

 

posted for the thirteenth anniversary of Paul's passing:

Photo by AmyLovesYah - Flickr

December 22, 2020

In Remembrance of Paul

Twelve years plus one 

Around the Moon, Stars & Sun.

You've traveled them all

My dear friend Paul

You've caught stardust,

Thrown it down in from

Your place in the Heavens

Tossing the colors of the

Seasons all around

Of Winter, Spring, Summer, & Fall

You've watched them all

From where you are

Creating magic for Jordan Paul

A new life is soon to be

Did you whisper to Jordy

"Call her Jelly"?

 

I think of all the places

You could be,

You were most happy with

Your family

And those of us whom

You called friends

Were blessed beyond

The Moon and Stars

Where you have been traveling afar.

I know you met my Mom that night

At the end of this past November

Twenty two days away from this December day

On Christmas I will toast to both,

And all who've gone before

To all that was and is to come

Let Love carry you all home.

Love Always, & Always, 

Your friend Sue

Happy Birthday Paul

I'm not sure where to start.  I'm missing Paul terribly today, on what would have been his 62nd birthday.  I wonder how he would have managed himself through these strange times.  I'm incredibly sad picturing him trying to play with Jordan with a mask on.  Paul loved all that was new, and fascinating, as I do.  These new technologies, and gadgets would have kept him occupied.  He'd love being in these times.  We'd all love it if that were possible.  In the meantime enjoy these happy Spring flowers.  Happy Birthday Paul.

Marching Through Time, and a Dozen Years Fly By

Short and to the point on this 12th anniversary of a sad goodbye:

You Should Be In This Picture

Peace to all of you

11

This classic exchange today, on the 11th anniversary of Paul leaving us.  So much to talk about this year.  Our return to the Hudson Valley, officially graduating from college, Steph and Joe moving into their first house. More babies!  Things are going well.  As well as they can go without him here.  I still have those moments, now over a decade later, where I want to pick up the phone and tell Paul about a Monty Python Moment that occurred, usually during my commute.  I've been seriously considering finding a storytelling group somewhere and honing my abilities by spinning a good tale or two. Maybe telling Paul stories at The Moth or somewhere else in the city is something to aspire to.  We miss you!

Someday You Will All Understand, and I'm Sorry, but you know, L I F E

To: Ashley, Amy, David, Alec, Justin, and Angelle,

Paul would have have been 60 today so this is all fresh in my mind at the moment.  Three of my six children knew their uncle Paul.  Maybe not as well as I knew him, but enough to feel the empty space where he used to be.  To my other three:  You would have liked him. He was a gentle soul, and had the Goldstein sense of humor, maybe with a little more Monty Python thrown in.  For me that empty space nags at me and reminds me that I can't share things with him. So many major and minor events that I feel like telling him about, or knowing how much he would have loved my new family, and the positive effects that would have had on everyone.

I tell you this now because someday some of you will experience this same thing.  I hope to god it's a LONG time from now.  Like 80 years from now.  When it does happen though, those of you still here will think back to this and realize how important you are to each other.  Even when you have differences. Even when things don't go quite right.  Even if you all end up in six different states.  You will always be bound by those family ties.  I know you're not all close, all of the time, but consider starting some sort of regular meet up.  My family did this when we were kids at the request of my grandparents, and we were all better for it. 

I love you all.  I may not be around when you understand what I'm talking about, but please consider the importance of family. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and older it seems.  Happy birthday Paul!

The Decade

Dear Paul,

Clearly this is an amazing shot.  As a family shrinks, it also grows.  As the lower limbs of a tree disappear, new ones grow, and become entwined with the branches of other trees.

There are people missing here.  Some who had a call to duty, or work.  Some who left us after being here for so long.  And, one in particular who should be here with a crazy grin on his face marveling at his grandson.

We've grown Paul.  We've all continued down that path in your absence, and new people have joined this journey of ours.  They all hear about you, and wish they could have met you.  I know you would have wanted to meet each and every one of them too.  Especially though, your grandson, and grandnephew.

It's been an eventful ten years.  I'm thrilled with the accomplishments and revelations.  I just wish I could tell you in person.

Miss you.

The Last Straw

It's funny what you can be sentimental about.  A matchbook, a name-tag, a street-corner, or a plastic straw.

Paul loved drinking things with straws.  As he began his ordeal which eventually took him away from us, the straws became more of a necessity.  At some point when we were sharing the Jersey City apartment he asked in the dollar store nearby about buying a whole box of straws they had behind the counter.  I can't remember what he paid for it, but it was more straws than most people would ever need.  The box stayed in NJ when Paul left for good, and remained with me when I moved out.

Tonight I used the last one.  Appropriately on a low carb milkshake.  It's a strange feeling to be sentimental over such a trivial thing, but I found myself wondering if I should save it.  In the end, I decided that Paul would have wanted me to use it on something like this, and not try to save it.  I mean, it's just a straw, right?

Take care friends.  Save the memories.  Not the disposables.

Fifty Nine (and Eighty)

Life goes on.  New life arrives.

All of this moves forward, without you.

I can't, and won't ever know how big the smile on your face would have been upon seeing your grandson Jordan.

I can't, and won't ever know how proud you would have been to see me finish college (almost now), and smile to see my family grow too.



I can't, and won't ever know how you would have contributed to all of the successes and triumphs this family has seen lately, and how you may have supported us during the minor disasters, and our saddest moments.

I can't and won't ever know how sad you would have been to hear of the loss of the man who shared your birthday, and was a friend to all of us.




I can't

I won't

Happy Birthday Paul and Ed

For Paul - Sometimes They Leave Too Soon

This is a house in Norwalk, CT.  Although it did not always look like this, my family lived in this house until sometime in 1966 I believe.  Mom, Dad, Lee, Paul, and 1 year old me.  I was thinking about this house the other day.  Our Uncle Win also lived in Norwalk, not far from here.  His neighborhood had split-level homes on much larger wooded lots.


A few days ago I was watching an episode of House Hunters with Jill, and a couple was home shopping in Norwalk.  One of the houses, a split-level with a wooded lot, looked familiar.  It wasn't Uncle Win's house.  It WAS a few houses down the street though.  I immediately wanted to share this revelation with my family.  When things like this happen that's the first instinct.  We want to pick up the phone and call the people who appreciate these little moments in life.  These "hey look at this" moments.  I called Lee.  Not that talking to my brother is any sort of disappointment.  No, on the contrary.  Lee and I have great conversations about all things past, present, and future.  The problem is I wanted to tell Mom.  I couldn't.  I wanted to tell Dad.  I couldn't.  And, I wanted to tell Paul.  I couldn't.


At least once a week, usually more, I see something, or read something that I want to share with them.  It's those moments that will never let me forget.  And especially now, on the ninth anniversary of losing Paul, I want to know what he would have been doing to prepare for the arrival of his grandchild, and my parents with them seeing great-grandchildren on the way.


We can't keep them forever
We can keep their memories for longer than forever, but...

Sometimes they leave too soon

We miss you Mom, Dad, and Paul.

Kitchen Stories

My brother Paul has been gone 8 years today.  I think about him every day, but on this day every year I tend to get a bit more melancholy.  About a week and a half ago, I was baking a cake for our family Hanukkah get-together.  The cake was our mother's famous sour cream coffee cake.  Always a hit.  As I remember this recipe, and all the times that mom made it, I was thinking about Paul and his creative side in the kitchen.  He was like me in the kitchen.  More of a Chemist than a Cook.

There were the good things.  The chocolate chip pancakes, The famous pizza omelette (he had a special "Uncle Buck" frying pan for that one), the cakes, ohhh the cakes.  He made special decorated cakes for special occasions like Lee's thirtieth birthday party.  Then there were the not so good things.  Chocolate scrambled eggs rises to the top of the list I think.  Words cannot describe this.  One of my favorite kitchen faux pas had to be the caramel.
Mom and dad were not around.  Paul had been left in charge of me, and was spending time in the kitchen creating something.  I was in my room, not paying attention, until I began to hear banging, and noticed a burnt-sugar smell.  As I went into the kitchen to see what was going on I saw Paul, chipping away at something that was hardened on the stove.

Image credit: thehomelook.blogspot.com

He had consulted a few cookbooks, and was trying to make caramel candy.  Everything was going fine until he poured the caramel into a plastic container to let it cool.  The container stretched, and broke.  The caramel, which was more at a hard-candy stage at that point instantly cooled and solidified on the stainless steel stove.  He was whacking away at it with a knife handle to get it all off.

For each story like this, I have so many more memories of going to his place to share a meal of home made ribs, sukiyaki, and so much more.  If you can hear me Paul, hear this:  I have carried on the torch.  Jill, and the kids can verify that I have definitely taken over mad scientist duties in the kitchen.  Chances are that you know this.  Take care, and try not to laugh too hard when I burn things.

Your Brother,
Neil

A Poem for Paul

A Poem for Paul
December 22,2015

Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

God Rest Ye Merry Paul Goldstein
Let Nothing You Dismay
We've Celebrated You At Chanukah
And Will On Christmas Day
With Stockings Hung Up By The Fire
As Santa We Await

Oh Tidings of (Southern) Comfort And Joy
Comfort And Joy
Oh Tidings of Comfort And Joy

God Rest Ye Merry Paul Goldstein
Let Nothing You Dismay
You've Been Gone 8 Long Years Ago
This 22nd Of December Day
To Journey Toward Your Heavenly Home
That Seems So Far Away

Oh Tidings of Comfort And Joy
Comfort And Joy
Oh Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

God Rest Ye Merry Paul Goldstein
Let Nothing You Dismay
With Hearts And Hands And Voices
We Bless You This Special Day
We'll Bake Your Special Cinnamon Buns
Make Rice Salad & Bake A Cake

And Toast To Your Comfort And Joy
Comfort And Joy
Oh Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

Dear Paul,
Thank you for making this time of year special for me, full of love, surprises, and abundant joy. All of them overflowed in you this time of year, and touched everyone around you. Christmas is not the same without you. I hold in my heart the memories of Good Times, Great Food (Chinese), and a Dear Friend. Miss you Always & Always, Sue

Happy Birthday to my Brother Paul - 2015

Well, today would have been your 57th birthday. I've been missing you quite a bit lately as so much has been going on that I know I would have been talking endlessly with you about.  The world is a huge paradox these days. We're careening down a path towards financial and social destruction, while being a part of innovations that are changing the way we do everything.  I'm hoping that we reach a point soon where one cancels the other out finally. The other thing that scares me is the world we are giving our children. They are coming age, and should be running the show now, but I see so much apathy, and disconnection in their faces that I don't think they understand what's wrong.

I have a feeling that every generation when it reaches middle age looks at the next generation this way. I hope that's the case, and these are just the ramblings of an aging curmudgeon-to-be.  Otherwise, things are good here.  I am a much happier person at age 50 than I was at age 30. It would be better if you were still here though.  Happy Birthday Paul.

--Brother Neil

A Poem for Paul 1958-2007 by Sue

A Poem for Paul 1958-2007

SEVEN

Seven years have passed,
Since I saw you last
Where has all the time gone?
It's flown by like the wind,
Lifting the bird's wings,
Higher, and higher until it
Flickers over the horizon for
One final wave goodbye.

Wasn't it yesterday when
You sat in my kitchen?
I must be dreaming
That was back in '77.
A lifetime ago, a blink of an eye
You're still gone & I often
Wonder why?
Not a day goes by, that I don't think of you.

I found a seashell in a jar
One we picked up from the
Beach at the Cape Cod Shore.
I wonder if it has travelled as far
As you are.

How far is Heaven?
I don't know
Just know that you've been
There for Seven

Until we meet again my friend
Rest in Peace, Love, & Joy.
Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas
Your most favorite time of year is here.
We'll keep it for you as in years passed
Whether it's 25, 30, 50 or just Seven.

Love, Always & Always
Sue

Happy Birthday Paul!

Happy birthday to my brother Paul who would have been 56 today.  For some reason the story that came to mind had to do with a vacation that Paul took back in the early eighties.  You see, Paul had re-programmed most of our business's computer system, and was therefore the only one who could fix the damned thing when it broke.  After not being able to get away for a long time he finally got in the car and hit the road.

What happened?  You guessed it.  Something broke.  When they finally got a hold of him, he was relaying information from Mount Washington in New Hampshire on a payphone.  No cells yet. I've always had this vision of Paul yelling into that remote payphone in the mountains with a line of people waiting to use it.  "No!  I said RE-BOOT"

I hope everyone else continues to remember stories like this.  We miss you Paul.

A letter to Paul - 2013

Here we go again.  Another move during the holidays.  It's a house this time.  Everything has been

falling into place lately.  I wish you could be here to see how everyone has grown (even the adults).  All of the cousins are either in, or done with college.  I've been reading a lot, but my reading time is about to be re-purposed for schoolwork, as I finally try to finish college myself.  I've got a little more grey upstairs, and need to be a little more careful with my health these days, but we're going to try to stick around to see all of the cousins turn grey.  Lee and Dawn, and Jill and I have been spending vacations together, and looking forward to more.  It's hard not having you, and mom, and dad around for the holidays, but I wanted you to know that we'll keep the rest of the clan together as much as possible.  Maybe even re-start the old Bruntil "family meeting" tradition.  We'll see.

Say hi to the folks, and any aunts, uncles, and grandparents you may run into.  Take care, and check in on us once in awhile.

Lots of love,

Neil

From Sue: For Paul on his 55th birthday

Inspired by DION'S "Abraham, Martin, and John (and Bobby)

Photo by Amy

Has anyone here seen my old friend Paul?

Can you tell me where he's gone?

He Loved a lot of people in his lifetime.

They say the Good die young.

I looked around and he was gone.

Has anybody here seen my old friend Paul?

Can you tell me where he's gone?

Lifted to Heaven's Gate on wings of Angels.

They say the Good die young.

I looked around and he was gone.

Has anybody here seen my old friend Paul?

Can you tell me where he's gone?

Gone to see Abraham, John, Martin, and Bobby.

They say the good die young.

I looked around, and he was gone.

Happy Birthday Paul from your old friend Sue. I miss you buddy. I'll

meet you down the road. Thanks for your friendship. I'll never forget you. Good times my friend, good times.

Love Always, and Always, Sue

Five - (by Neil)

alphabunny_photos - Flickr

Five cups of pudding

Five trips to nowhere

Five dinners with the folks

Five used Dell C-series laptops

Five quarts of home made spaghetti sauce

Five states called home

Five blue delivery vans

Five BP catalogs

Five pots of Mr Coffee Mac and Cheese

Five miles back to the car

Five nights at the New Yorker

Five hours stuck on an the Amtrack Empire

Five blocks to the laundromat in Union City

Five of us, then four, then three, now two

Five years without you....