“I can’t even believe that I’m telling you this… Paul’s gone, boo.” It took every bit of my energy to keep my phone next to my ear. I stayed silent for a moment, trying to wrap my mind around what my mom had just said to me. 

“Wh… what?” This couldn’t be real. I don’t believe her. How? Why?

“I don’t know, honey. I don’t understand it either.” My mind goes into this fog, and I go into autopilot mode as I begin to cry. I try to finish the conversation as fast as possible. Tears fall like the rain, as I attempt to make sense of what was just said to me. It couldn’t be. He is… was so young. And… and so healthy. The man who held the position of father figure in my life couldn’t possibly be gone.

As I hung up the phone the darkness of the room engulfed me. It takes a long time for me to just cry, but once they start, I can't get them to stop. The light from the TV illuminated the tears welling up in my eyes.  The disbelief that this is happening takes over all thought processes. I stare at the TV, disassociating from everything, hoping my nephew does not wake up. I stare ahead and don't move until I hear the footsteps of my brother and sister-in-law, coming up the metal stairs of the apartment. I quickly wiped my eyes and lay down as if I'd just been watching a movie all night. I give them a half smile and tell them goodnight. For hours, I toss and turn, unable to bring my mind to a dormant state. I huff and fling myself up off the couch. I slide open the patio door as I look over the rail, at the 3 am sky. Tears begin to pour out of my eyes as if it was never gonna end. It was peaceful outside, and I refused to disturb the peace of quiet nature. 

The next few days flew by in a blur of depression. Wake up, go to school, come home, go to sleep. Every single day this routine limped by. Nobody knew what to do about any of this. Paul was never married on paper, to his wife Kim, so how was she going to pay for everything? 

Fundraiser dinner. That's how we decided to raise money to help Kim with the unexpected expenses. We would all crowd into the restaurant and bar, On The Border, and pay tribute to a wonderful man that we all love. 

The day of the dinner came, my parents and I climbed into the truck, mentally preparing for the heartbreak that will be shared with each person that will be there tonight. KCTV5 joined us that night. There was no way to capture the kind of person that Paul was, but they sure did capture how he made people feel. The news anchor was such a sweet woman that made her best efforts to speak with all 150 or so of us that were there. Whether she asked you about Paul, or what kind of food you were having, she spoke with each of us.

There she was. Kim walked into the restaurant; her tear-stained face making eye contact with as few people as possible. She made a point to make eye contact with me, causing us both to burst into tears. She pulled me into one of the tightest hugs I've ever had. Two sentences were whispered into my ear that broke me. "Paul loved you so much. He... he was so proud of you."  I do my best to cry as little as possible, at least not in front of Kim. This was for her, I CANNOT make this about me.

People I didn’t even know walked past me, seeing my swollen eyes, sympathy in theirs. The occasional hug, or “I love you”, from those I did know, or the hand on the back as they tell me they are sorry for my loss. I had many mixed emotions about people telling me this. On one hand, they meant well, and they were feeling the same type of pain I was. On the other hand, it was like a reminder of the reality that I was forced to live in. My mind still couldn’t wrap around the fact that I was never gonna be able to talk to him again, never going to be able to hear his beautiful voice again. I’ll never be able to hug him, ever again. I just don’t understand it. This shouldn’t be happening. This is not what should be bringing us all together. Paul should be sitting here, next to Kim, laughing and having a good time while enjoying his dinner with his friends and family.  

My mom was the one who put this dinner together, so we have to be there the entire time. By the time we got home, we had been gone for almost 7 hours. My dad nudged my shoulder to tell me we were leaving. I stand up, exhausted from the night’s emotions, to find Kim. Others are hugging her, alcohol soaked emotions allowing them to get away from the deep sadness everyone is feeling. Sleepily, I walked over to Kim, prepared to hug her goodbye. That smile of hers, once filled with so much joy and brightness was now coated in a darkness that only she could understand the depth of. I open my arms, ready to say goodbye; something I wish I could’ve been able to do with Paul.

“You have no idea how much Paul loved you, boo. You meant the world to him.” Those sentences will forever stick with me. 

“He meant the world to me, Kim. I hope he knew that.” I smiled at her, tears building up in my eyes. Trying not to break down in front of her. As I pulled away from the hug fully, I step towards the fence surrounding the outdoor patio, hoping to be given any sort of balance to keep from collapsing. I didn’t feel physically sick, but the strength of the emotions hit me like a hurricane. 

When walking to the car, I float, rather than walk. My brain was shutting down, and I could feel it. As my parents and I got into the car, the silence was loud. The occasional sniffle, or wipe of the tears, but nobody ever addressed it. Talking would only cause the tears to fall more. I wasn’t sure how it was possible, but the tears just continued to fall, at a never ending stream. The music that was playing softly in the background was interrupted by the ringtone of a phone call. The drunken slur of the words signaled that the person calling was my uncle. Oblivious to everything that had been happening that night, he babbled on about things that seemed pointless to us. The night we were having caused us all to be irritable, which then got taken out on my unsuspecting uncle. His complaints just seemed so pointless, knowing everything that our loved ones were dealing with in the moment. I just wanted the light sound of the music to continue. It was the closest thing I would get to peace in that moment. My entire life, music had been that fence to hold onto when I had lost balance. Those headphones to put on when the loud noises became too much. The emotions mentally drained me that night. 

I stepped out of the truck, finally home, and walked into my bedroom. My safe place. As I lay in my bed, curled into a ball, as I held myself to try and contain the emotions, my dad walks into the room. My father, the man who always knows what to say, was speechless at that moment. He sat next to me, bent down, holding me, crying with me as I finally let go of all the tears that I desperately held onto throughout the night. I finally jumped over that hurdle, and I could free myself from a miniscule slice of those emotions. Anything at all would be better than nothing.

The next hurdle I had to overcome was the funeral. This night was almost better because everyone would be crying, not holding back. Emotions were a funny thing for me. I held onto them like a cup you put over a spider you were too afraid to kill. The idea of lifting that cup and exposing that spider was terrifying. Since I found out Paul died, I had been holding that cup down for dear life. Nobody could see that spider, not even my parents. 

Weirdly enough, I walk into the venue with a smile on my face. Every type of person was in that building, and in a line down the sidewalk, just to support Kim and show their love for Paul. The impact this man had was truly incredible. The line was caused by each person, stopping to sign the book. I didn’t really understand the point of that book, but if Kim wanted us to sign it, I would. Whatever she wanted. As we stood in line, patiently waiting, a man who I vaguely recognized walked up to my parents and I, Crown Royal bag in hand. No, there wasn’t any alcohol in it, but guitar picks. In true Paul fashion, guitar picks had been made with his picture on it, and he saved the last two for my dad and I to have. I keep that guitar pick in my wallet to this day. As everyone took their seats, you truly saw how many folks were there to show their love and support. In a building with a 250 person capacity, 500 musicians, cyclists, students, teachers, family, friends, and those of us, like my family, who are not blood related, but could only be described as family, crammed into the room to listen to all the stories that were both funny and heart wrenching. 

The service was truly beautiful for more reasons than that. The idea that people from so many different backgrounds, who knew all the different sides of Paul could come together as one, treating each familiar and unfamiliar face with such love and sympathy was a truly heartwarming thing. If it was possible to put all the tears that were cried that night, together, you would be able to flood the Missouri River. Kim was never married to Paul, on paper, so the expenses she was now dealing with were astronomical. Some folks made bracelets to remember Paul. All the money earned from those sales would be given to Kim. “Rock and Ride on Paul”. That is what the bracelets said. It encompassed him so well. The man who loved music more than most, and will go on a bike trail for miles, simply because he loved the ride, and the nature, would forever be able to be remembered each time folks look down at their wrists, at that bracelet. I have two. One on each arm, so I can never miss it. 

Those bracelets mean the world to me. With each test I take; with each dumbbell and barbell lifted; with each buckle of the helmet strap; I will be able to remember the beautiful soul that was Paul Lichtenauer. He was the most kind, loving, and gentle man you could ever meet. No matter how close you had become with Paul, throughout your life, he blessed you with what he could. Whether that be words, love, or a helping hand, he blessed you. The teacher that loved helping each of the students in every possible way that he could. The cyclist that put on races, and cheered you on no matter how good or fast you were racing. The musician that put everything into the melodies he created, whether with his voice, a guitar, or a piano, he created something that he truly loved. The man who loved each and every person in his life with everything he had. You felt the love pouring from him each time you spoke to him. When someone you love dies, you often think about that one thing you wish you could say to them, if you had the chance again. I finally know what I would say. And it’s this…

Thank you, Paul. The moments we spent together, since I was little, will be something I will never forget. Your words of wisdom with each year I grew up, that you spent so much time talking to me about. I never knew how much of an impact you had on me, until I had lost you. You have forever changed the person I am, and only for the better. I strive to be the person that you were to each person that you came into contact with. Your sympathy, work ethic, and accomplishments in life were truly incredible, and I can only hope that I will be able to achieve even a sliver of what you did during your short time here on earth. I can only hope that I am making you proud of the things that I am accomplishing in my life. I love you more than I ever expressed to you when you were alive. This is for you Paul.