Upon Waking The Death Of My Friend....................... Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Upon Waking The Death Of My Friend.......................



Below poem is a tribute written in
September of 2013 but never before
posted on this site...Now it is...



My friend died last night,
loved playing the Blues,
held rock 'n roll sacred,
Fender, his golden calf;
one day he sent away
for a two dollar book
on how to play guitar,
what a rush it gave him;
became a twang master
in just three years,
inbetween writing lyrics
that would make Stalin cry,
and, all the while
making those
around him smile wide,
and realize what a gift
it was to be afforded
the honor and privilege
to call this man your friend.

Foresight and fortitude
elements that fueled
his sprite, brilliant mind.
Sincerety and compassion,
virtues that warmed
our Hearts fueled by his.
And, his altruistic ways,
always reaching...
reaching out
with both hands
and sound words
in helping others shoulder
crosses of their own.

And, even...in 'his' darkness
when, challenge fronted him,
it were these special virtues
that propelled him to fight,
attack, destroy and conquer-
refusing to give in
to whatever he wanted or stood for.

And, the Cross he shouldered
was thick-hulked and mighty,
jaggedly splintered...
clearly far too much
for the ordinary hero, to carry.
But understand this:
Paul was far from ordinary.

And, so, as he did everything
in his far too stunted life,
he carried his Cross with pride,
courage...without complaint, rue,
or resignation....and fought!

You see, Paul was created uniquely,
in a myriad of ways.
A friend you could count on
in good or bad times,
for loyalty, support and truth.
A person that possessed a penchant
for finding that miniscule flicker of light
amongst the darkest of places and spaces.
Someone, who without realizing it,
was a walking library of pertinent knowledge
educating many, myself included
on a potpouri of information ranging from
music and sports
or stories of our penrod past,
to serious topic and issues
that tapped philosophic ideaology,
that would ultimately result in a forum of
socratic debate, a place where Pauls erudite
was always in sync and in overdrive.
Yet, as opinionated as he could be,
he'd always listen and respect an opposing view.
Suffice to say he was a humble idealist
who influenced, and was a mentor to the many
who sought his assistance or advice.

Time only knows 2 modes,
forward and relentless. You cannot
turn it back...
It will not negotiate with you, for if it did,
I would have negotiated for years of retro time
so I could have done things different, better
in spending more time and enjoying that time
with the best friend I ever had.
The old cliche that Life is too short,
is not a cliche at all.
It is gospel that is proven true
every moment someone we love passes on.



_________E P I L O G U E_________

Paul bore his crosses, with herculean prowess,
with poise, character and dignity.
Not to my surprise, he handled his illness
just like another day at the office of a job that
he would rather not have but at the same time
would never give the company the satisfaction of
quitting!
The last time I visited him,2 days before he passed,
I brought him something he had requested 2 days earlier,
A Haggen-Daz, Strawberry milk shake.
He drank half of it, I swear, in less than 10 seconds.
And, as he always did whenever and whatever he ate...
he handed me the shake, and said, 'here, have some'....
as genorousity was yet another virtue that Paul was
never short on, despite the fact he knew I hated straw-
berry, which then reminded me of his stint as a stand-up
comic. I always told Paul he should play cards for a living
as he could easily don a poker face at a drop of a coin.
But, of course, Paul, per usual had far more agressive
aspirations, so, instead of shuffling cards,
he took his poker-puss on the road and shuffled
on stage as a stand-up comic, playing comedy clubs
and appearing on u-tube with that poker face as his
ace-in the-hole of success!

Yes, Paul was very special, and because so,
I honestly believe that his passage
to that better place never pit-stopped at
God's holding cell of Purgatory that night.
No, I believe that on September 13th
that his day began with that Cross still
upon him, but that his day ended with
a light shoulder and embraced by a Man
who knew first hand what it was like to
bear a heavy Cross.

I'll miss you, Pal 'o mine...And remember,
you're not off the hook just yet...You have
a new job now, a most important one....
In watching over us all...all who loved you...

And finally, please forgive me for not
knowing better to be a far better friend.
I guess we're never too old or wise to be
taught a lesson on the importance of
making the most of what time you never
really know you have, and sharing it with
those who have earned your time. You did,
Paul, and so much more. Rock On, dude,
until we meet again & what a party it will
be, that I can honestly see Heaven sending
the two of us back for a do-over! Stay close...
I love you, man!

Frankie



['Lost Sam Dudley is safely home...']

{.................Paul G. Nanna.....................}
July 26th,1956~September 13th,2013}
____Friend, Supporter, Teacher____
____& Symbol of Intrepidness_____





©Frank J. Ryan, Jr./2013
__ All rights reserved

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kelly Kurt 07 October 2015

An incredibly touching memoriam. I'll bet he is grinning somewhere right now.

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