Paul

"Im here for you" I told him as I put my arm around him. "I know the pain and I know the sorrow but I also know you will overcome this. This is just a set back" I told him as he sobbed.

This is my best friend. He knows I am gonna do all I can to help him through this.

I know he was excited to be a father and I know he is broken now, knowing that he is not the father of this child. I just need to be here for him. So we sat talking all night. Things started getting easier to talk about. Things were looking up. He will make it through this with time and God, I told myself.

By the morning, we we're laughing and talking about the past. About stealing his moms car when we were 10 and running it through fence after fence because we didn't know how to drive. We had finally packed all of his things leaving an empty house that he, just the day before, he shared with his fiance and expected child. Just like that it was all over for him. But he was in good hands. I was there to help pick up the pieces. He was coming to stay with me and begin a new chapter of his life. He seemed excited. Im sure he was still hurting but he was strong. Honestly, he was stronger than I've ever been in every situation. We both grew up in aggressive homes. He flourished. I fell into bad habits. We both grew up with belligerent fathers. I turned to drinking but he never touched it. If anyone could do this it was Paul. Oddly enough we even shared that name. It was a middle name for me but a first name for him. We were destined to be best friends. It was clear from the start.

As he loaded up the last few boxes into my pickup I decided to call my wife and let her know we would be home soon and that he seemed to be ok. My wife, bless her heart, was all for taking him in and helping him. After all he had always been there for me. As I hung up, I hopped out the truck to go help with the last of his things.

Then I heard it. I felt it in my chest. I knew exactly what it was. My heart sank.

I couldn't bring myself to even step inside. I screamed for him.

"Paul!!"

"Paul, please answer me!!"

No answer.

Repeated calls for him echoed in the now empty home.

As I stepped in to find him i could smell the iron that now filled the home. The gunpowder was still so pungent it almost overpowered the smell of the blood.

"God, no!" I screamed as I saw his motionless legs hanging out of the bathroom. I didn't know what to do. I don't even remember calling for help. I just remember them asking if he was breathing but I couldn't bring myself to go in there. I dropped the phone with the dispatcher still on the line. I fell to my knees and prayed that i was wrong. That he hadn't done what I was thinking. Then I heard a slow gasp coming from the bathroom. A short wheezy gasp that let me know that no mAtter what has happened he needed me now more than ever.

I pulled myself together and ran towards my best friend.

There he laid, pistol in his mouth. Gasping for his last few breaths.

As i sat there with him waiting for help i prayed over him. I prayed about him. I asked the Lord to forgive him one last time. As I was holding his hand I felt him squeeze and saw him force out the last smile he would ever make. I knew he was at peace unfortunately. I knew his actions were a mistake and I knew he knew I was there to help him be forgiven. When the ambulance arrived it was over. He had already been saved. Maybe not in the sense they saw but I knew it.

It took a lot for me to get over that. It took a lot for me to pray again. It took even more for me try to accept it. One thing I did accept was that this is what he wanted. This was his way to.end the suffering. Who am I to judge. So I fought for him. Every chance I could. I changed my name so that there would only be one "Paul". And i told his mother every chance I could how he accepted God in his last moments. He wasn't alone. He wasn't afraid. He died at peace. And no one can take that from him. Ever.