by Susanne Nilsson

A goodbye, a thank you and one last discussion.

                                                                                                                                                       
My friend, Paul Curran, passed away from a heart attack in October. I found out a few weeks ago on the internet when his close friend and neighbor, Steve, tracked me down. Paul remains one of my favorite thinkers and was, bar none, the most loyal reader of Gunmetal Geisha.

“He spoke of you often and fondly,” said Steve. Paul and I never met in person, but we corresponded via email and I thought of him just as fondly as he did me.

After learning of the news, I couldn’t bring myself to write a new blog post, which is how I realized I was always partially writing them to Paul.

In attempting a post today, I would have been remiss not to mention this dear man, his passing, and his influence on me and the continuation of this blog. It will probably hurt a little to write a Gunmetal Geisha post from now on, but that’s okay. It’s my pleasure to continue to think of Paul every time I blog, even with the twinge of loss.

Although it’s “passé” for a so-called intellectual to speak of god and the soul, Paul and I shared a belief in both. We had many a philosophical discussion regarding the nature of existence, not in the context of religion, but of the unknowable and the unseen.

Do I find comfort in such beliefs when someone precious to me dies? I would love to say yes.

But the truth is, any time I lose someone and want to think of their soul as having advanced to some next phase of spiritual education, it’s precisely then that doubt grips me the most: What if I’m wrong? What if there’s nothing more after death?

If Paul and I were having this discussion, he’d come back with something far more sophisticated than my answer, whereas I merely conclude, if this is all there is, then all the more reason to better ourselves and grow while we can.

I decided a long time ago that as much as the existence of god makes sense to me — certainly makes me feel less pointless and isolated — I don’t need it. Meaning, while I would be relieved to discover for certain that god exists, if the opposite were to be scientifically proven, I would function just fine and continue living exactly as I am. For me, god isn’t a crutch but a feeling I can’t shake. (And I’m glad.)

So long, Paul. Perhaps we’ll come across each other again, and if we don’t, you’ve certainly left a profound impression on me. Thank you, dear friend.
 

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