Remembering Paul on Rosh Hashanah

Poster courtesy of Mike Purcell, 

founder of the Facebook page, 

Putting a Face on Suicide

So the Jewish High Holiday, Rosh Hashanah, is over. It begins a ten-day period of reflection ending with our Day of Atonement (a fast day) when we go to synagogue to pray to be sealed in the book of life for another year. Even though I’m not religious and I question the existence of God, and it is hard for me to pray or even say the pray word, going to high holiday services always makes me cry. Especially the reading on Rosh Hashanah that spells out who shall live and who shall die. (listen to Leonard Cohen's rendition.)

On Rosh Hashanah will be inscribed and on Yom Kippur will be sealed how many will pass from the earth and how many will be created; who will live and who will die; who will die at his predestined time and who before his time; who by water and who by fire, who by sword, who by beast, who by famine, who by thirst, who by storm, who by plague, who by strangulation, and who by stoning. Who will rest and who will wander, who will live in harmony and who will be harried, who will enjoy tranquility and who will suffer, who will be impoverished and who will be enriched, who will be degraded and who will be exalted. But repentance, prayer and charity remove the evil of the decree!

And if I really believed all this, then Paul would have been inscribed to die thirteen years ago on Rosh Hashanah. He died four days after Yom Kippur when his destiny was supposedly sealed. 

What I Miss

Paul loved playing the piano

What I Miss

Twelve years didn’t erase him.

He is still with me everyday.

The memories haven’t dimmed.

I clearly see his face,

his clear blue eyes, his buzzed hair

in my mind.

I miss hearing him

play his music

as his bent fingers

lightly trickled up

and down the keyboard.

I miss hearing his footsteps

on the stairs and

hardwood floors

as he prowled

around the house at night.

I miss hearing his deep voice

as he said, “hello”

when he came home from work

I also miss his expertise.

He solved our computer problems at night

leaving carefully written instructions

in his childish printing

for us to find the next morning.

I don’t miss his smoking,

I don’t miss his bad moods

during his last few years,

I don’t miss that his sickness

sometimes made him angry

and me angry at him.

No, I don’t miss those things.

But, I don’t think about them.

I just think about the things

about him that I miss.

2008, 2011

Happy Birthday, Dad

Dad with Paul, 1972

Today would be my dad’s birthday. He died in 1975 at the age of seventy-two after a year and half battle with cancer of the bile duct system. Who knows where that came from? He always lived very healthy. He was trim, he was an early advocate of health foods and one of the first health food gurus Gaylord Hauser, he didn’t smoke, and drank only moderately. I always worried a heart attack would take him since he had one at age fifty-seven, probably caused by stress. Perhaps stress was what caused his cancer. He sure had his share of it – from my mother and from major business setbacks toward the end of his life.

He was a quiet guy and kept most of his thoughts and feelings inside. That could have caused his cancer as well. I’ve heard if we let emotions out it’s better for our health.

What I most admire him for was his sense of family – he always protected us and encouraged us. He also was creative. He played the violin as a youngster, and he made sure my siblings and I studied music – we all learned to play piano. Plus he knew about interior design. As a textile salesman and fabric designer he had a wonderful eye for how to furnish our homes. I think I got my love of beauty and music from him.

He also was in love with our son Paul. Unfortunately, my dad died when Paul was three. Paul first tinkled on the piano at my mom and dad’s house, and perhaps he got an early encouragement to learn to play from my dad.

It’s now thirty-six years since he died, and though I don’t think of him often enough, I remember him well.

Happy Birthday, Dad, wherever you are. 

Love, Madeline

Music is here now for you listening pleasure

A few days ago my computer guy – and I kid you not, his name is Guy – and I spent a couple of hours figuring out how to add a music player on this site so that I can showcase my son Paul’s music. And Voila! The music player is now here. Just go to the second tab above, the one titled In Memory of Paul Sharples, open the page, scroll down to the bottom, and click the little triangle on the box to play. Unfortunately I can only showcase one piece at a time, but I promise to change the tunes often.

I’ve also created two more tabs. The next tab has endorsements for my memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On. Hopefully after you’ve read the book, you’ll write one that I can post. The next tab is for the book trailer, but since that is still under construction, you’ll have to keep checking back to see if it’s posted yet.

Please enjoy Paul’s tune – composed and performed by him.

Paul playing piano at Grandma's house