“There is a special kind of heartbreak in the last words you didn’t know were the last.”
Christmas break that year was quiet. He was focusing on being a better man. I celebrated with my family and children, while quietly wondering what the spring semester would bring.
January 2007 arrived with a new course load of upper-level History classes and a job in the department as a student assistant. He called me on the first day of classes to wish me luck. We met often to study, debate, and simply spend time together.
I remember one ordinary day between classes. He was coming out of a classroom, and I ran down the hallway and jumped into a tight hug. He just smiled. His smile always made me weak in the knees.
A few weeks later we spent a night away from everyone. We stayed at a nice hotel where he ordered champagne and strawberries. It was one of the most beautiful nights of my life. He was a big romantic, even though he would have never admitted it.
As the semester continued, my schedule was full—classes, work, kids, and taking care of a home. We often met in the library to study, debate, and encourage each other. We had our own special place hidden deep in the library stacks. I can still remember the smell of the bound leather books we used for research.
On Thursday, February 8th, our study group all went to lunch together. I remember that day so clearly, as if it happened yesterday. The smell of the dining hall, the laughter, and those beautiful bright blue eyes staring into mine.
He looked at me softly and said,“Tonya, I love your kids, but…”
I interrupted him.
“I know. And I will wait.”
He smiled gently, stood up, kissed my forehead, and walked to class.
The next day he stopped by while I was working to let me know he would be riding home with his dad for the weekend.
Little did I know that would be the last moment I would ever see him.
Saturday night I had plans to go to the movies with an old friend. He called that evening while I was getting ready.
His speech was slurred when he said,“Come meet me tonight at the Comedy Club.”
I was irritated with him. He had been working so hard to be better, and now it felt like he was throwing it all away. Throwing me away. Throwing my children away. Throwing our forever away.
“No. I have plans, and you are clearly very messed up. I can’t do that to my kids,” I responded quickly.
He replied,“I will be waiting for you. Meet me.”
Part of me wanted to drop everything and go. I sensed something. But the other part of me won out, thinking about what was best for me and my children in that moment.
“I am not coming. I will see you Monday,” I told him.
And I meant it.
That was the last time I would ever hear his voice. The anguish in it still haunts me.I followed through with my plans that night.
Monday morning, February 12th, felt happy. I knew I would see him, and everything would be forgiven—or so I thought.
I walked into the History department for work, and the department secretary stopped me.
She looked at me and said quietly,“Tonya… Paul died Saturday night.”
I laughed.
“No, he didn’t. I just spoke with him Saturday. You are lying.”
Then I screamed, “You are lying!”
She answered softly,“I’m so sorry. I know you were close. His dad just called to let us know.”
My legs gave out and I collapsed to the floor in shock. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.
“I can’t breathe.”
In that moment, my whole world fell out from under me.
Ebbs & Flows 