The death of my friend – my brother – Paul McCann has been as hard as any death since November 1978. As I write these words, only a few days after his passing, the thought of not having Paul in my life in unbearable. The tears that fill my eyes show me what a blessing he has been to my life.
I first met Paul in Jonestown, long before the arrival of so many people in 1977. Before Paul came over, we were told that he was a drug addict, lazy and troubled. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Instead, we met a warm, caring and fun-loving man who became one of our hardest workers and who brought great joy into our daily lives. Within a matter of a few days, Paul and I became lifelong friends. The love we have for each other has lasted all these years through the good times and the bad.
Now a part of me has died, just as in November of 78. The void he left in my heart will never be filled. Like most if not all of you reading this, I still feel the pain from 1978, and not having Paul to help me carry that burden will make it a little harder.
I love you and miss you