This is hardly the comment this story deserves, but we've talked about it elsewhere. For now, let me just add that you also accidentally brightened my day with this: "apparently powered by whatever they put in illegal fireworks".
What resonated with me was the idea that grief is not always about losing someone. Sometimes it is about realizing how much of their story was lost with them.
I found myself thinking about how easily people become reduced to a single event, a tragedy, a diagnosis, a mistake, or a headline. What felt meaningful here was the way you kept looking until Paul became a person again. Not just the cousin who died in Madeira, but a nineteen-year-old drinking blue curaçao, riding around on a borrowed scooter, and meeting someone who remembered him.
I also loved the story about your Aunt Gloria. There is something profoundly moving about a mother carrying that kind of loss and still choosing compassion for someone else who was affected by it.
By the end, this felt less like an investigation and more like an act of restoration. You didn't find all the answers, but you recovered pieces of a life that had been flattened by time and retelling. That feels important.
Thank you so much, Keli. This means a lot to me. “An act of restoration” is exactly what I was hoping for, even if I didn’t have those words for it yet. I think you’re right that part of grief is realizing how much of someone’s story gets lost, flattened, or reduced to the worst thing that happened to them. Finding those small details, the blue curaçao, the borrowed scooter, the girl who remembered him, gave a little bit of Paul back to me. And Aunt Gloria’s compassion still floors me. I really appreciate you reading it so thoughtfully.
I’m so glad you found Carol. And, that she was such a good human. This story could have gone differently had Carol not been exactly who she was. You and your family have really been through it. I’m glad you finally got some pieces back and were able to complete a bit more of the puzzle.
Wow. I read out loud for a while. It was kind of cool to feel your words.
Your story is powerful. I recognize how you feel about your life. I started over after years of feeling like I was living next to my life. And you are right. Sometimes we have to be patient. The opportunity you are waiting for is under the perseverance, the asking yourself the questions, the feeling.
It doesn't matter if you don't know exactly what you need to do. You know what you don't want. That's gold. :)
I read this piece with my heart in my throat. Seriously, it took my breath away. I truly hope your life gets better, that you can find the peace you so desperately want, and that you can once again appreciate the little things in life, like the work you love. You’re stronger than you think.
Sometimes we search for closure. I find that it cannot be truly found when a life is cut short. I have my faith. I can't tell you how many people I have lost. But God bless you and keep you.
You did indeed need to get some things out. Wow, so much to unpack. I'm sorry for your losses and, more importantly, I hope you feel lighter after getting so much out. Here's hoping that the next time you have to get it out, it's things you're happy with. Dogs calmed down, a new cat (!), a family member getting engaged, retirement!
This is hardly the comment this story deserves, but we've talked about it elsewhere. For now, let me just add that you also accidentally brightened my day with this: "apparently powered by whatever they put in illegal fireworks".
So sorry for your family's loss. 💕💕
thank you so much
🫂🙏🏼 I don't have words to express how I feel after reading this.
ty so much for reading! it's a lot!
Thank you for trusting with your memories and sharing this piece. It's so heartbreaking
This didn't feel like I was reading an article it felt like someone trusting me with their memories. I'm really glad you decided to write this.
Hi, thank you for sharing this.
What resonated with me was the idea that grief is not always about losing someone. Sometimes it is about realizing how much of their story was lost with them.
I found myself thinking about how easily people become reduced to a single event, a tragedy, a diagnosis, a mistake, or a headline. What felt meaningful here was the way you kept looking until Paul became a person again. Not just the cousin who died in Madeira, but a nineteen-year-old drinking blue curaçao, riding around on a borrowed scooter, and meeting someone who remembered him.
I also loved the story about your Aunt Gloria. There is something profoundly moving about a mother carrying that kind of loss and still choosing compassion for someone else who was affected by it.
By the end, this felt less like an investigation and more like an act of restoration. You didn't find all the answers, but you recovered pieces of a life that had been flattened by time and retelling. That feels important.
Thank you so much, Keli. This means a lot to me. “An act of restoration” is exactly what I was hoping for, even if I didn’t have those words for it yet. I think you’re right that part of grief is realizing how much of someone’s story gets lost, flattened, or reduced to the worst thing that happened to them. Finding those small details, the blue curaçao, the borrowed scooter, the girl who remembered him, gave a little bit of Paul back to me. And Aunt Gloria’s compassion still floors me. I really appreciate you reading it so thoughtfully.
I’m so glad you found Carol. And, that she was such a good human. This story could have gone differently had Carol not been exactly who she was. You and your family have really been through it. I’m glad you finally got some pieces back and were able to complete a bit more of the puzzle.
Wow. I read out loud for a while. It was kind of cool to feel your words.
Your story is powerful. I recognize how you feel about your life. I started over after years of feeling like I was living next to my life. And you are right. Sometimes we have to be patient. The opportunity you are waiting for is under the perseverance, the asking yourself the questions, the feeling.
It doesn't matter if you don't know exactly what you need to do. You know what you don't want. That's gold. :)
Looking forward to read more!
I am so sorry about your cousin. You told this story beautifully. Giving his last day on earth a little breath. I hope you and Carol stay in touch!
Incredible post. Thank you 🫶
I read this piece with my heart in my throat. Seriously, it took my breath away. I truly hope your life gets better, that you can find the peace you so desperately want, and that you can once again appreciate the little things in life, like the work you love. You’re stronger than you think.
Sometimes we search for closure. I find that it cannot be truly found when a life is cut short. I have my faith. I can't tell you how many people I have lost. But God bless you and keep you.
You did indeed need to get some things out. Wow, so much to unpack. I'm sorry for your losses and, more importantly, I hope you feel lighter after getting so much out. Here's hoping that the next time you have to get it out, it's things you're happy with. Dogs calmed down, a new cat (!), a family member getting engaged, retirement!
This is trippy. I remember the story, but you found her. She was ten miles? Wow! This whole thing... that would be so much for anyone.
Heart touching
I'm gonna travel to Vietnam for two weeks, and perhaps, I'm gonna write a post like this one to talk about my journey in Vietnam